


Jack Frost

by Irisunohimitsu



Series: The Long Life of Loki Leifson [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: (But he doesn't want one), (In fact if you try he might stab you), Alternate Universe, Awkward teenage crushes, BAMF Loki, BAMF Natasha Romanov, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Hostage Situations, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Has Issues, Loki Needs a Hug, Nudity, Slave Trade, Spanking, Torture, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, morality is a grey area
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-28 11:38:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 50,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6327448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irisunohimitsu/pseuds/Irisunohimitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thousands of years ago, the Jotun came to Midgard. Certain of a Jotun victory, Laufey brought with him his wife and infant son. However, the Aesir triumphed and in the resulting chaotic retreat, the boy was lost. </p>
<p>Meanwhile, Leif (minor OC) ventures out into the snow for firewood. There, amongst the pine trees he finds a monstrous babe with eyes of glowing coal, who changes at his touch to human form. Enchanted, Leif and his wife care for the boy as their own. Loki grows to a happy, precocious teen but alas, mortal lives are short and before he can pass on the secrets of Loki's nature, Leif is gone.<br/>Left alone in the world, Loki is forced to discover his own immortality. He must face his own demons and discover that he might just be one himself.</p>
<p>Several hundred years later, Jack Frost is the only name he is known by to any living soul. The world is not kind to drifters, so Loki chooses to live in the underbelly - and oh, does he thrive. Some parts of that dark underworld though, are too cruel even for him. A chance encounter whilst Loki lies and kills, in the service of liars and killers leads to an alliance as tenuous as the threads holding what is left of his morality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Growth and Stasis

Loki was found on the day of a great storm, as had not been seen in living memory. The snow bit through the air, great drifts of it piling up to trap people in the homes they would never dare to leave. They tucked themselves away, warming the huts as best as they could, fighting a desperate battle against the freezing wind that forced its way through the smallest crack to threaten the weak fires made with thin, damp twigs – the last left after the vicious winter.

Suddenly, the storm was gone. There was no gradual lessening of the gale, no slow retreat of clouds back to the horizon as the snowfall tapered slowly to a stop. It was just, gone. One second the people feared for their lives as gusts blew harder than ever and snow piled up, already threatening to cave the roof in with the weight of it, but showing no sign of letting up. The next, it was calm, the snow settled on the ground and no more fell, the clouds disappeared like dust into the wind and the sun shone through the icy windows.

Leif was one of the first to poke his head out. It was desperation that drove him, and the pain of loss. His young wife had given birth in the hut, to a child born already cold as the night air around them. Her own skin grew clammy shortly after, still bleeding sluggishly in the aftermath of her labour, with no way to stop it and the doctor inaccessible. Leif went out in search of firewood to keep her warm through her fever. There was a stand of fir trees about 2 hours from the village – perhaps three today, since he had to navigate the deep drifts of snow and watch carefully for hidden crevasses.

He pushed determinedly through the snow, snowshoes strapped to his feet still dragging in the deep powder as he used a long pole to test each drift before he dared step out over it. By the time he reached the stand of trees, his thighs were burning with the effort and his breaths came short and sharp, clouds of mist puffing from his mouth and dissipating into the frosted air. He was leant against a tree catching his breath whilst he unfastened the axe and knife he had carried with him when he spotted it.

A bundle of blankets hung from a tree branch, half coated with snowfall but safe from the deep drifts around the roots. Leif’s heart near broke when he saw it. A second babe fallen victim to the cold, hanging still and silent in the cold. He moved to take it down, intending to bury the body somehow, not able to stand the thought of leaving it under the snow for someone to find when it finally melted come summer.

Where were its parents? He wondered. Likely lost somewhere, likely two more bodies to be found in a few months’ time. As his hands reached out to take the bundle down, it moved. He froze, still as the dark trees around him. Hands shaking he took the bundle in his arms, stunned beyond words by the squirming he felt under his palms. It was alive, and oh how his heart ached that this child should live through frozen hell whilst his own never even had the chance to draw breath.

Pulling the blankets aside he nearly dropped the bundle then and there, nearly ran home to scream of monsters and be known as mad throughout the village. The creature, whilst undoubtedly an infant, was blue. The dark grey-blue of the storm clouds that had set upon their village, lines and strange marking trailing across its skin like art. And the eyes that peered sleepily up at him were a bright, uncompromising red. The eyes of a demon. Leif reached a trembling finger out to stroke the cold skin of the baby’s cheek, and then nearly dropped it a second time as colour bloomed out from his touch, spreading quickly across the child’s face until he was staring at what appeared to be a human child. Red eyes had changed to a sparkling blue-green. The hair remained the same, but the downy black curls that had blended into the dark blue skin now stood out starkly against pale skin.

Leif tucked the child numbly into his jacket and quickly set about gathering wood. Once he had a sizeable bundle he hefted it onto his back and began the long trek home.

His bundle was heavy enough that his snowshoes sank into the snow with every step he took. He was carrying far more wood than he usually would, enough to keep the fire burning near constantly to ensure the warmth of his wife, and of the child. Yes, it was some sort of shapeshifting demon creature, but it was an infant and he could not suffer another child to die when he could save it.

His coat shifted a little as though the child knew his thoughts were upon it. It had not cried, apparently happy to just sit next to the warmth of his body heat and sleep. Exhaustion weighed heavily on Leif’s shoulders, but he forced himself to continue. Finally the lights of the village came into sight and he nearly shouted his relief to the mountains, but stopped himself lest he wake the child.

His wife seemed better when he finally arrived back, sitting up in a chair and stirring a pot hanging over the fire.

“Leif,” she greeted, “I am so glad you are returned safely.” Leif dropped the firewood and stooped to kiss her cheek, then stepped back, mouth opening uncertainly.

“What is wrong Leif?” She asked, her face pale from sickness lined with concern.

“In the fir stand Asta, I… I found something.”

“What? Oh, love, tell me there was not the body of some poor soul?”

“Not exactly,” Leif hesitated, “I… Asta, I found a child.”

Asta’s eyes filled with tears as the pain of her own loss augmented the ache at the thought of a child out in the cold.

“Oh Leif…” she gasped, a tear escaping to roll down her cheek.

“No, but Asta… the child lives. I… I have it here.”

“You… you have a…?”

Leif nodded. “I do.” He pulled open his jacket and gently extracted the baby. The motion woke the child and it mewled unhappily, head turning as it searched for food.

Asta opened her arms for the child and Leif gave it gladly over. The baby burrowed itself into her chest and she laughed painfully, pulling open her shirt to nurse it with the milk meant for her own son, tears streaming down her cheeks even as she smiled gently at the suckling babe.

“He needs us, Leif.” She spoke softly, but with certainty and Leif knew the baby was theirs now.

“What shall he be called?” He asked, hands brushing the tears from her cheeks before settling one on her shoulder, the other stroking over the crown of his new son.

“Loki. He shall be Loki.”

Leif and Asta lived with their new addition in a world of bliss for almost a year. She never knew Loki was not truly human, and the other villagers believed Loki to be their own child – they never spoke of their loss, nor of Leif’s discovery. Loki was known as Loki Leifson, and they never sought for it to be otherwise, only smiled knowingly when people tried to claim that Loki had his father’s nose, or his mother’s high cheekbones.

Loki would gnaw on anything he could get in his mouth, crawling and rolling around the floor of the hut and eventually taking the occasional shaking step. He was an intelligent and pleasant child, Leif and Asta’s pride and joy. He looked at them both with such love and trust in his eyes that Leif could not bear to think how empty his life might have been if he had just left that demon child in the snow.

Asta had never really recovered from her birth, always weaker than she had been before. Years later, Leif reflected that perhaps she had only been keeping herself alive to give Loki the mother he needed, as the winter after Loki was weaned from the breast, her fevers returned with a vengeance, and one morning Leif woke to find the hand he clutched in sleep gone cold.

He pulled her on a sled to the trees where he had first found Loki, where he had buried their stillborn baby and carved out a grave for her in the frozen ground beneath the trees. The whole village lived in mourning, and Loki found himself passed around the neighbours for a time whilst Leif struggled to piece his world back together.

They left the village after the first time Loki turned blue again. Leif had taken Loki out with him to hunt for food, and looked up at one point to find his son playing in the snow, his skin storm blue. Loki appeared entirely unfazed by the change, but Leif swept him quickly up in his arms, panic flaring in his gut. Leif loved Loki regardless, but should another villager see him in this form he would surely be injured or worse when they persecuted him as a devil. Losing the other light of his life would kill him as surely as a knife to the throat.

The very next day Leif piled their belongings onto a sled and they began the long walk. They travelled for nearly a year until they reached a place where there was no snow. The warmth was jarring for Leif, who had never before travelled beyond the cold peninsula he had been born in. Loki adapted with the natural ease of a child, bedding down happily in the tiny one-room home Leif found for them, and romping in the street with other children his age, the new language tripping easily from his tongue.

Leif never found a new love, but his bond with Loki was close, and Loki was all he needed. They were happy in their sunny town where it rained in winter, but never snowed. Happy and safe. When Loki was 13, Leif noticed something. As his friends hit puberty they were growing rapidly, voices deepening and beards sprouting haphazardly from their chins. Loki, however, remained small and slender, his voice high and boyish, his cheeks smooth. Leif was not overly alarmed at first – it was not uncommon for some boys to grow later than others into men. Another few years later though, Loki was still as unchanged as the wooded hills that surrounded their town. Leif knew then that though Loki might wear the guise of a human, he would never truly be the same. Loki, too, had begun to notice he was different, and Leif knew he would soon have to tell him the painful truth of his origins.

Loki was a studious child – he learnt to read from a neighbour and grew with a love of all literature and knowledge. In the evenings, he would often spend long hours in the library of a local lord, which he was allowed to use in exchange for his help managing the stables. He had a brief flirtation with one of the older boys at the stable, innocent and carefully hidden as they both revelled in the delicious taste of forbidden love. That ended when the other boy was married to a girl who worked in the kitchen. Next, Loki loved one of the scullery maids. She had golden hair that fell to her waist, and he would tease her, pulling on it gently whilst he helped her carry water from the well.

* * *

 

He was walking home late after using the library one evening, when he noticed a pillar of smoke rising above the village.

He felt the first prickling of fear as he hastened his way back towards the collection of houses. There was an eerie silence blanketing the village. Loki broke into a run, skidding around the corner to his street. A lot of the houses were blackened from smoke, with smouldering holes in their straw roofs. Worst by far though was the charred ruins of the house at the other end of the street. Loki’s house. A wordless cry tore from his chest as he saw it, and the people stood around outside it turned to look at him.

Loki walked numbly towards them for a few steps, but then came the most horrifying moment of his young life. Without noticing how, he was on his knees, unable to move any further because there, on the ground was a body. A corpse, as black and damaged as the wooden frame of his house. Leif.

It took a week before his neighbours managed to calm Loki enough for him to speak coherently, though he rarely did. It was nearly two weeks before he allowed more than the barest morsels of food to pass his lips, and three weeks after he lost the only constant in his life that he finally picked up what remained of his belongings and left.


	2. A Name

Loki wandered for nearly 200 years, never staying more than a few years in one place. This was more through necessity than choice, because he still wasn’t aging as he should. It wasn’t that he did not age at all – he could track how his height changed and his body grew more muscular – it was just that he was aging so slowly it was almost unnoticeable.

Each time he left another life he had carved out for himself he felt a little more alone, and he wondered every day if Leif could have told him what he was.

Sometimes he would try to imagine Leif was there with him to answer his questions, but the all the imaginary father would say to him was “You are my son, and oh how beloved,” or some such other of his father’s stock phrases. Recalling his father’s voice telling him how much he loved him always made Loki ache with how much he missed him, so he would go to the nearest tavern and distract himself inside the first warm, willing body that he found.

He did not necessarily live a good life. Drifters like him rarely found themselves a comfortable home, so he delved into the underworld of each town he visited, earning coin through shady deals and petty theft. His skills as a pickpocket were unparalleled, and he could find his way into any home no matter how well locked, blend in seamlessly with any crowd. One of his favourite tricks was to sneak into some grand party and prey on the upper crust woman, charming then thoroughly then swiping their precious jewels as they swooned into his arms on the ballroom floor.

The first time he killed a man was when he looked about 17, though in reality he was closer to 170. The man had reacted with repulsion when Loki had subtly propositioned him in a small tavern known for attracting a certain ‘kind’ of customer. At first Loki merely brushed him aside, but the man had waited for him in the alley outside the tavern and attacked him, striking violently from behind and grabbing Loki’s throat. Almost without thinking, Loki had pulled out his knife and slid it cleanly in-between the man’s ribs, killing him almost instantly.

The blood on his hands had frightened him so much that he ran, his father’s voice ringing in his ears, shame in every syllable at the thought of his son as a murderer. Loki ran until he reached a land where he had never been, where they spoke his father’s tongue and lived through winters colder than he had ever experienced before.

He avoided other people, preferring to spend his time in self-inflicted isolation, the memory of that man’s last breath still heavy on his mind.

The second time he killed someone was not long after. He was asleep in the park when the first snow fell. He woke up to the morning light covered by a blanket of snow. Oddly, he felt no cold, nor had the snow melted into his clothes. He sat up and opened his eyes, blearily looking around at the pristine snow, sparkling gently under the rising sun. In the corner of his eye, something unfamiliar moved and he turned his head to see what it was.

Suddenly he was wide awake. It was him. The skin of his bare hands was a deep blue, raised lines running up his fingers and over his wrists, disappearing into is sleeves.

Loki panicked.

Unfortunately, his body’s natural reaction was that of fight or flight, and for some reason his instincts took him towards fight. To his horror, ice crept down his arms, appearing from nowhere and shaping itself into two vicious blades. Terrified, Loki bashed the ice against a tree trying to smash it off his arm, but it was too strong, and any chips or cracks he made only froze quickly back over.

“What devil are you?” A voice cried behind him. Loki had not noticed the man’s approach, too distressed by the alien body he wore.

“I…” he stuttered. “I know not.”

“Back, demon!” The man shouted, picking up a rock from the ground and throwing it at him. “Get ye back to Hell.”

Loki backed away as the man continued to throw rocks and pinecones at him, shouting all the while that he must be some demon. A rock hit Loki on the head and his hands flew up protectively, surprised when the onslaught suddenly stopped. Lowering his hands, his heart jumped into his mouth as he saw the reason the man’s attacks had ceased. A shard of ice was embedded in the man’s neck, and he slumped slowly to the floor as Loki watched with wide eyes. Red blood stained the snow and Loki backed away from the scene, finally turning to run when the light left the man’s eyes.

He did not run far this time. He hid himself in the forest just outside the town, only coming out on nights when it snowed, or when it was so bitterly cold that no-one else would be outside. He was still seen though, wandering around the town as he searched for food. The townspeople gave a name to this mysterious creature that wandered the streets on cold nights, leaving a trail of ice behind him. They named him Jack Frost, and ran screaming from him, crying a warning to others that Jack Frost was on the prowl tonight.

* * *

 

It took Loki several months to work out how to escape the blue skin. When the snow began to thaw, and the days grew warm he somehow managed to slip back into human form. The memory of his father helped him, he found. He had avoided thinking of his father those last few months, still ashamed that he had killed two men and unable to bear thinking about his father’s disappointed face.

The disappearance of the mysterious Jack Frost with the approach of the summer months only reinforced his legend. When Loki visited the town again in human form townspeople told him stories of the monster that had prowled their streets, freezing everything he touched.

The word stuck with Loki. Monster. Frightened of his own body, the word grew in his mind like thorns, hardening him to the world around him. If he was a monster, why should he not behave as such?

For a few decades he made a lucrative living as a highwayman. By this point he was tall and well-built enough to intimidate the bravest of souls, and his silken voice wove threats so prettily men would fearfully hand over weighty purses of gold at barely more than a commanding twitch of Loki’s fingers. He only very rarely had to resort to violence, but when he did he did so efficiently and without emotion or mercy. He killed again, but never quite felt the same remorse. Or if he did it was buried deep inside him beneath that word, _monster,_ until it festered from remorse into bitter self-loathing.

* * *

 

The only joy he found was in study. When he crept into houses to steal people’s valuables, his first stop was always the library, where he would seek out any new treasure to read. He had now established himself a permanent home, an isolated lodge in the Scottish mountains where few would stumble across him, and that house had an ever growing library.

It was this habit of literary theft that led to the moment which, perhaps changed his life more than any other.

In the course of burglarising a wealthy lord he discovered an ancient treatise hidden away on the subject of magic. Magic was something Loki had only ever heard whispers of before, something he had thought mere superstition. Curious, and knowing the lord would not be arriving back until late that evening, he sat down on the luxurious bear skin rug and began to read. He only meant to read for five minutes, to decide if it was worth taking that treatise home with him, but the pages turned beneath his eager fingers and five minutes, then ten came and went entirely outside of Loki’s notice. Time had dropped sharply out of his consideration with the revelation of an entire new world to explore.

When Lord Merton came home that night he found a strange sight indeed. Lounging on the rug of his library, deeply fascinated by an ancient tome was a young man, so absorbed in his reading he had not even noticed the lord’s approach.

Safe in the knowledge that he could do so unnoticed, he stopped to observe the man. He was young. Certainly no more than 25, likely younger. His face though, was arranged in a manner that gave him the air of one older by far. A bag of Lord Merton’s valuables lay beside him. A burglar then, caught in the act. To be a burglar meant an uneasy lot in life – which would perhaps explain his air of maturity – if he had lived through more than a man his age ought. He was evidently highly skilled in his craft, given that he had found his way into one of the better guarded homes of the kingdom, and appeared to have done so without significant difficulty, given the pristine state of his clothes. The clothes themselves seemed to be of rather greater quality than his occupation would suggest, as did the fact that he seemed to be reading – those engaged in petty theft were not commonly educated enough to appreciate such literature. Then again, magic tended to find ways to make itself known to those with the talent.

“Boy. Can you read that?” Lord Merton barked.

The man’s head shot up and he scrambled to his feet, alarm filling his eyes.

“Of course.” His chin lifted haughtily. “I should hardly be so intrigued as to allow myself to be caught had I not been able to read it.”

His voice was deep and refined, words well-formed and eloquently spoken. His manner and voice spoke more of entitlement than they did of the underworld. Perhaps this was a man who stole more for personal amusement than necessity. Either way, an interesting creature to be sure.

“Ah, excellent. I see then that magic herself has led me a new apprentice.”

The man’s eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected response.

“I do beg your pardon?”

 “Do tell me your name lad, we must get better acquainted if I am to teach you.”

“Teach me what, exactly?”

“Magic of course. Only those with a gift for the arcane arts are even capable of reading that text.”

Lord Merton raised his hand and Loki jumped and swore violently as every valuable item he had taken flew from the carpet beside him and returned to their places in the house. His vernacular was another piece of the puzzle Lord Merton sought to resolve. Such language was rarely heard outside of the underworld, so certainly there was a connection of some variety. Perhaps a fallen aristocrat? The man recovered himself quickly and watched the silverware re-arranging itself in the cupboard.

“So, it would appear this treatise speaks true and magic is more than petty superstition.” It was almost a statement, but the hint of uncertainty turned his words into a question.

“Well how else do you propose I might have done that?”

“I know not.” The man frowned. “You say you wish to teach me? Why?”

“If magic is not passed on to the next generation of those gifted, the art will die out. What better reason can there be?”

“And my burglary?”

“Incomplete, and therefore entirely forgettable.”

The boy – man’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, searching for the lie within his words. “As you say.”

“So you will stay?”

The man’s mouth gaped slightly.

“Surely you are not so naïve as to allow a petty criminal under your roof?”

“Ah but you wouldn’t be a petty criminal, you would be my apprentice.”

“That is naught but semantics. What of your safety? Men such as myself are not to be trusted.”

“I am quite sure there are pitiful few men such as you.” Lord Merton began to walk around the room looking at the books on his shelves as he talked. The man’s eyes followed him closely and he mirrored his every step, keeping a cautious distance between them. “And I do not fear for my safety. The call of magic is far too seductive not to entrap a curious mind, you would surely not do harm to the man who will teach you. Besides which I have many means of securing my personal safety. I appear soft, I know. But rest assured.” The lord’s voice took on a note of warning. “I am not a man to be trifled with, and those who do find themselves considerably worse off.”

The stranger held his gaze evenly, and eventually nodded.

“Very well. I will accept. I am Loki.”

“Well met, Loki. I assume from your presence in my home you are aware of my identity.

Loki nodded. “Lord Merton.”

“The very same.”

To Lord Merton’s frustration, despite Loki spending nearly a decade learning from him, he consistently refused to be introduced onto the social circuit. The only person he deigned to see with any regularity was Lord Merton himself, and even these encounters became less frequent as Loki’s abilities grew and he was able to practise on his own.

Throughout this time, Loki’s visage barely changed from the young man Lord Merton had found sprawled across his floor years ago. His hair grew longer and he refreshed his clothes regularly to follow the changing fashions, but his face remained ever the same.

The day after Lord Merton’s curiosity finally led him to ask about this strange phenomenon, Loki was gone. The room that had become his was cleared, every book, every precariously balanced alchemical experiment gone as though he had never been there. Such was the nature of the mage, Lord Merton supposed. They were flighty creatures.

* * *

 

It was no surprise to him when news reached him of a new apprentice sorcerer in France. He went by a different name, but Merton was certain it was the same man. Loki was exceptionally gifted, more powerful than Merton had ever thought possible, and his unquenchable thirst for knowledge could never have been satisfied by Lord Merton’s teaching alone.

He quietly followed Loki’s progress throughout the years, listening out for word on the grapevine of powerful new apprentices appearing and disappearing all over Europe. Always the apprentices were described as young, though the physical characteristics began to vary – evidently Loki had discovered shapeshifting. Lord Merton followed from his home in Britain, never seeking to contact Loki, knowing such a thing would not be welcome. He followed and grew old, whilst Loki was ever young. Just before his death he was visited by a man with white blond hair and deep brown eyes. He knew straight away who this stranger was.

“Loki.” He rasped. “You have grown.”

The man’s visage faded to reveal the young face he knew so well.

“No Lord, I remain the same.”

“Your soul lives through each and every day, regardless of whether that time is shown upon your face. Your eyes show me your growth, Loki. I knew when I first saw you that you were not what you seemed.”

Loki’s eyes widened, glittering in the darkened room.

“You never said.”

“You would have left. You did leave.”

Loki looked away, eyes downcast.

“I apologise. It was ungrateful of me.”

“You were scared.”

There was a long pause, then Loki closed his eyes.

“Yes.”

“For how long now have you been alone?” Merton asked curiously.

“I do not know the exact number. I have not kept close track. But I know it has been upwards of 400 years.”

Merton’s heart ached for the man before him who broadcast loneliness in his every move, but still pushed all others away.

“That is a long time to be alone.” 

“It is.”

“Be less afraid. The world is changing and you can change with it. When you find your new family, do not be afraid to embrace them. Know that you were beloved to me. All my students are, and you are by far the greatest among them.”

To his surprise, his words sparked tears in Loki’s eyes, though they were quickly brushed away.

“My father would say such things to me, long, long ago.” He admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Believe him.” Merton urged.

“I fear I have disappointed him. I am not a good man.” Loki said, his voice somehow even quieter.

“Never so. He loved you and I am sure he always would. You are neither good nor bad Loki, but you have the potential to do both. Remember the good in yourself and you will start to display it to others.”

Loki did not respond, but sat quietly for several long minutes, mulling those words over.

“I… I am not sure you are right, Lord Merton. But perhaps I might try. I would appear to have a long life yet ahead of me.”

“It would appear so.” Merton agreed, nodding feebly. Loki stood suddenly.

“I must take my leave of you my Lord. I thank you for all you gave me, be it decades too late.”

“And I thank you for coming here. Fare you well Loki.”

“And you also.”

And then he was gone.

Merton died a few days later. A number of his apprentices attended his funeral but Loki was not among them. The world continued on.


	3. The Exchange

A few hundred years later, someone else died. Loki watched dispassionately as their last breath hissed out of them. Once certain they were fully expired he reached out and tugged his knife out of their windpipe. He wiped it calmly on his victim’s trousers and stood, tucking it away carefully and turning to look at the family huddled against the wall. They shrank away from him when he raised his hand and he stopped, raising a sardonic eyebrow. Ignoring their flinch, he released the knots on the ropes of the smallest child, then strode away, leaving the door open behind him. He stalked the corridors of their escape route, ensuring it was clear, then turned a corner, and simply disappeared.

He reappeared in a dark alley, stepping out of the shadows and flicking his jacket so the wicked knife was hidden before joining the crowds milling along the busy street. He walked quickly, but not enough to draw attention to himself, slipping smoothly through the throng. After walking some distance he turned into a multi-storey carpark, pulling a pair of keys from thin air and climbing into a smart but understated BMW.

He drove some way out of town and stopped at what appeared to be an abandoned farm. He pulled out a phone and dialled, face not displaying so much as a hint of emotion as he popped his boot and glanced down at the woman inside. Her wrists were tied, and her legs were bound at the ankles and again at the knees. A cleave gag wrapped across her mouth, cutting slightly into her cheeks and soaking up her frightened tears.

Sighing, Loki reached down, ignoring her flinch to pull the gag off.

“Breathe, and calm yourself woman. Don’t bother screaming, no-one will hear you. Now hush, I must make a call.”

There was a hint of a Russian accent in the twist to his vowels. He spoke quietly, and with the calm air of a man who does not plan on violence, but will freely dispense it if pushed.

“Yes, hello.” Now his voice was brisk and business-like. “Your family are safe. I disposed of the man holding them.” He paused. “Well now that would just have been a waste of time. I opened the door for them, they are quite capable of finding their own way out. Besides, I rather think they would not have welcomed my company. I believe I may have frightened them.” His tone made it quite clear that he could not care less.

He listened again to a response and irritation puckered his brow.

“Yes of course I removed the evidence, do you take me for an amateur.” … “Yes, I have her. No, she is entirely unharmed.” … His nose wrinkled again, “I most certainly will not… No… I have no quarrel with this woman... She is collateral, I will not see her harmed unnecessarily. No a finger is not necessary. We have her. Make your demands and if they insist on proof I will take a lock of her hair, but no more.”

The woman gasped out a frightened sob below him and he tsked, holding the phone against his chest briefly to muffle his voice to the man on the other side.

“Do calm yourself. We will receive the ransom, and I will return you. It is not a complicated transaction. Hold your tongue, if you will. Mr Delaney will be most unhappy if he hears that I have even seen fit to remove your gag.”

He returned the phone to his ear.

“Apologies, I had to deal with the woman… Yes, I rather scared her... Yes she is crying… Your vindictiveness is not a desirable feature Delaney... Use a dictionary you uneducated cretin… very well, I will wait.”

He hung up the phone and looked down at the woman.

“If I release your legs, will you run? I would not advise it, believe me when I say I am far faster than you.”

The woman drew in a shuddering breath.

“I won’t run.” She promised. Loki stared sternly at her for a moment and then nodded, apparently satisfied that she was being honest. He reached down and lifted her easily out of the boot of the car, setting her down none-too-gently on the ground and pulling his knife out to slice through the ropes.

“This is the boring part.” He said, pulling a pair of books bottles of water from the car and lounging across the bonnet of his car. He tossed one of the books, a ratty paperback of ‘1984’ across to her along with a water bottle. “We wait. Your dear husband should be scrambling for the money as we speak, and when he does I will give the details of our location and wait for you to be collected.”

The woman picked up the book with trembling hands.

“He won’t pay.” She said softly. “What happens if he doesn’t pay?”

Loki frowned. “It is not for me to say. I imagine Mr Delaney will make that decision.”

The woman sobbed again and Loki rolled his eyes, lying back against his front windscreen and opening his book to a marked page.

They passed the next few hours in the same position, the woman occasionally letting out another choking sob and Loki ignoring her. Finally, his phone rang. He picked it up on the first ring.

“Frost… Yes of course I still have her…” His face dropped slightly, though he quickly recovered and returned to his impassive mask. “Is that so?... So what will be done with her?... mere curiosity I assure you… of course, I will bring her…” Here, the woman, having gathered enough of what had happened to know she was in danger, leapt to her feet and began to run. Loki threw his head back with a put upon sigh. “I will be with you in half an hour.”

He put the phone down, and was suddenly in front of the woman as she stumbled across the barren earth. She screamed as he caught her bound wrists in a bruising grip, holding her up as his foot swept her legs from beneath her.

“I did tell you not to run,” He grumbled as he tossed her unceremoniously over his shoulder, entirely unaffected by her squeals and struggling. “This could have been so much more civilised.”

He dropped her into the boot of his car and replaced the gag, and bindings around her legs. Checking to see she was tucked completely inside he slammed the boot closed and slid into the driver’s seat. He drove them back into the city at breakneck speeds, pulling into a private parking garage and parking in a space right next to the stairwell. He rapped on the boot by way of warning before pulling it open. The woman began struggling as soon as the boot was opened, muffled shrieks issuing from behind her gag. Loki drew his hands back and waited patiently.

“Really girl, do you think this will make the slightest bit of difference?” After a minute, the woman’s screams tailed off and she fell still save for a few abortive tugs at her wrists. “That is more like it.” Loki soothed. “Now, I will give you two options. The first is that you behave with a little dignity and I release your legs so you can walk into that room on your own two feet. The second is that I carry you upstairs, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, and you lie pathetically on the floor whilst we discuss your fate. Which is it to be?”

The woman remained still, and Loki pulled the gag briefly up to hear her response.

“The first one, please.” She stuttered.

“Ooh, lovely manners dear.” Loki flashed a mocking grin as he replaced the gag. “And an excellent decision. It all feels rather thuggish when I have to carry young ladies around like a sack of so many potatoes.”

He slipped his knife through the bonds again and haled her out of the boot, setting her on the ground and taking her shoulder in a hard, unyielding grasp. He did not put the knife away, rather pushed the edge of it lightly against her back, just enough for her to know it was there.

“This is a throwing knife, girl. Run and you will find it lodged in your spine. I do not miss. Understood?”

The woman nodded, hands shaking violently in front of her.

“Very well. Up we go then.” Loki reached around her to open the door, and nudged her through and up the stairs.

They entered a room at the top of the stairs where Mr Delaney was waiting with a really quite excessive number of bodyguards.

“Good grief Delaney, are you expecting a woman or an invading army?” Loki commented dryly as they walked in.

“Hard to be sure with a slippery bastard like you, Frost.” The man spoke with a coarse New York accent, dislike of Loki clear in every word he spoke.

“I am your man, Delaney as long as you pay me.”

“Long as I bid the highest more like.”

“Quite. You are most welcome by the way.”

“For what?”

“Well, I _did_ rescue your loved ones from a really quite sticky situation.”

“Barely. Poor kids are going to be having nightmares for weeks.”

“Oh that would have happened anyway, children are so frightfully easy to scare. Anyway, if we are finished, I have business elsewhere…”

“No you’ll stay, I’ve got another job for you with this bitch.”

Loki frowned.

“Really Delaney, such language.”

“Shut your trap. Moss won’t pay up, so his pretty little lady is going to auction. You’ll be delivering her.”

“To auction?” Loki asked innocently. “How fitting. Since you are unable to raise a ransom from her you will source the money in other ways. Very clever Delaney, you must be ever so proud.”

“Shut the hell up Frost. Go put her back in the car and come back up, you’ll have business of your own at the Warehouse.”

“Very well.” Loki pushed the woman roughly out the door and near dragged her down the stairs. He forced her back into the boot of the car, wrapping duct tape around her legs again with his brow furrowed in distaste. Closing the boot again he turned and marched back up the stairs, slamming the door behind him.

“What do you want Delaney?” He asked immediately upon re-entering the room.

“Someone’s in a mood. Not happy with our little solution? Happy to kill but not to fuck?”

“Cease your profanities Delaney they do not make you sound any more intelligent. I do not care a jot what you do with Mrs Moss, I am merely annoyed that I shall have to cancel what promised to an extremely… pleasant evening.”

Delaney leered at him, a lecherous grin stretching his pockmarked cheeks. “Plenty of that where you’re going Frost.”

Loki snorted derisively. “No thank you, Delaney. Do what you wish with your own genitals, but I generally prefer my partners wet and willing.”

“Cute, Frost, real cute.” Delaney sneered, then turned back to business. “Right. Word has it there’s a mole at the Warehouse. Makes sense since they’ve been busting a few more of our deals recently, but we don’t know who it is. I want you to get in there, find out who our rat is and I want them dead, got it?”

“Got it.” Loki replied. “Now if that will be all I have a young woman possibly asphyxiating in the trunk of my car, and I understand she will fetch rather more if she is still alive at auction. I will contact you when the job is done. Text me the address in 20 minutes.”

“Make it quick.” Delaney ordered, and Loki paused a moment, hand resting on the door handle.

“I’ll be done before the week is up.” He promised, then stepped out and closed the door before Delaney could respond.

He got in his car and started the engine, ignoring the thumps that came from the boot as his cargo realised they were on their way. He roared up the exit ramp and drove away, stopping a few streets away in a spot he was certain was not overlooked by any cameras.

He pulled out his phone and cast a quick spell to check for listening devices. Finding none, he dialled for the police.

“A black BMW with the following number plate will drive up 52nd Street heading North in approximately 10 minutes.” He said in a matter of fact tone, giving the plates of his own car clearly, repeating it twice for clarification. “I think you will be extremely interested in the contents of its trunk.”

He gave the details of his car once more, hung up, and restarted the engine, driving in circles for a few minutes before heading towards his hopeful rendezvous with the police.

Fortunately, they had listened to his warning. Loki had barely turned onto the arranged road when police cars pulled up around him. Not wanting his cargo to be alerted to their presence, he pulled straight over, reaching into the glove compartment to pull out a pair of dark sunglasses and shifting his hair to a mop of red curls.

He stepped straight out of the car and nodded to the approaching policeman.

“Thank you for your response.” He spoke with a lilting Irish accent. “Do me a favour and don’t let her go back to her husband. He’s the reason she’s in this mess.” He pushed past the policeman, ignoring his shout and blended into the crowd already gathering around them. Hidden from view he rapidly removed his glasses and returned his hair to the white-blond he usually kept it for his guise of Jack Frost. He re-joined the crowd as a bystander, watching as the boot was opened with the keys he had left in the ignition, and Mrs Moss was helped out, leaning heavily against a policeman, relief clear in every element of her body language.

Her eyes searched the crowd, somehow meeting his, and he nodded almost imperceptibly before turning and striding away, losing himself once again to the anonymity of a city street.


	4. Infiltration

Loki was not expecting the police to follow him after his tip off ‘lost’ him Mrs Moss. Moving away from the scene he did not detect anyone trailing him, but decided to err on the side of caution. He twisted and turned and doubled back on himself as he walked until he was several blocks away. Only when he heard the ping of his phone with the address he needed did he finally pause. He memorised the address then shot a quick text back.

‘Compromised (use a dictionary). I escaped, but Moss is with the police. I will be disposing of this phone in case of tracking. I will contact you with a new number when I reach the destination.’

He pulled the SIM card and memory card out and burnt them to ash with a gesture of his hand, then dropped the shell of the phone down a nearby drain. He continued a short ways looking closely at cars parked by the kerb before selecting one that caught his eye, a brand new Volvo. He made short work of hotwiring the ignition and was soon tearing down the freeway outside the city, relishing the approaching sirens. He led the police on a chase for a few exhilarating minutes, then vanished from behind the wheel, transporting himself to the top of a nearby tree to watch the car crash and burn, whilst the confused cops tried in vain to extract the body of the driver. He waited patiently until the crash site had been cleared, amusing himself by teaching the birds nesting nearby to swear. They were common wood pigeons, and naturally lacked the ability to imitate the human voice, but a small shot of magic to their vocal chords took care of that, and soon the birds were cheerfully shouting curses at the passing cars. When it grew dark, he changed his form and clothing to those of a woman and stepped up to the side of the highway to hitch-hike the next few miles.

A pair of college kids stopped for her and she spun them a merry tale of tragedy about her friend leaving her by the side of the road after a vicious argument about the relative merits of different types of facemask. She then bored them silly with entirely made up details of different types of facemask and their benefits, and finally asked to be let out at the first sign of civilisation, claiming she lived in a caravan just over the hill.

* * *

 

A short walk later, she arrived at the so-named ‘Warehouse.’ The feminine curves melted away and he grew several inches as he returned to his usual form, looming out of the darkness to frighten the guard sat in a poky room by the gate.

The Warehouse appeared to front itself as just that – a warehouse – for flat-pack furniture, if the sign was to be believed. Loki was sure there was a phony website with exactly the same name ripping people off with dodgy bedroom furniture at that very minute.

“Jack Frost.” He extended a hand. “I believe you are expecting me.”

A short radio call later and he was let in the gate. He walked calmly into the building, maintaining a carefully indifferent mask on his face as he encountered his first woman. She held her arms out to take his coat, eyes cast down, sunk into a face that screamed of drug addiction. He ignored her, preferring to keep his belongings with him.

Loki was introduced to the boss of the venture, a charismatic middle aged man with a sharp suit and carefully groomed facial hair. His dark hair was tinged with grey around the temples, and his recent botox injections did little to hide the lines stretching across his forehead.

“Your name?” Loki asked, sinking uninvited into a stylish armchair.

“Giles Kane.”

“My job?”

“Find our rat, find out what he knows, find out what his boss knows, kill him.”

Loki hummed, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.

“Simple enough then. And my fee?”

“Delaney will…”

“Not pay me enough. This place is unhygienic and unpleasant. Should you desire my best work it would do you well to ensure my comfort.”

“A stipend then, and one of our better guest suites. Oh, and you may take your pick of the women.”

“Keep your whores, I can get a woman on my own.” Loki paused, weighing his words carefully. “Though should I take note of a particularly lovely creature I may call that offer in at a later date.”

“Right.” Kane agreed with a small roll of his eyes at Loki’s superior attitude.

“I will need access to all your files, all your rooms. If you even suspect the presence of a federal agent then he – or she – is leaving a trail. It will not take me long to find it.”

“It better not. We’ve lost some good deals cos of this jerk. Oi! Moreno, get in here.”

The door to the office opened and a tall Hispanic man walked in, hands clutching at a battered defence rifle. He was tall, spindly in a way that put Loki in mind of some sort of insect – perhaps a crane-fly.

“Moreno, give your keys to Frost.”

Kane ignored Moreno’s protests, only staring imperiously until he caved and handed his keys over to Loki with a sullen glare.

“How ‘m I going to get around then?” He grumbled in a heavily accented voice.

“Not my problem.” Loki replied, closing his fingers smugly around the keys.

“Out, Moreno.” Kane ordered. “Right, Frost. Accounting and records is down the hall on your second left. All doors beyond that are ‘residential.’ Talk to anyone you need to but don’t interrupt if they’re working on something important. Your room will be number 2 on the top floor. Any questions?”

“None. I will update you on my progress as and when. Good evening.”

* * *

 

Loki walked out of the office without waiting for a response and turned left, heading directly to accounting. He pulled out a few files and sat down, sweeping someone’s mug off the desk so he could prop his feet up.

It took him five minutes to notice that one of the accountants was embezzling money from the establishment. Within ten though, he had decided they were not the turncoat. No, it was someone lower down. Loki replaced the accounting files and pulled out incident records instead.

It was laughable, really, that no-one else had spotted it, he thought as the pattern fell quickly into place in his head. One of their run-around men responsible for the collection and transport of payments, girls and other resources had a far higher rate of failure or police encounters than could be explained by simple bad luck. They were spread enough across different types of job so they were not all recorded in the same place, but when you looked at every transaction he was involved in, nearly 40 per cent of his ventures were busts, with a further number being foiled after his direct involvement had ceased.

Satisfied with an hour’s work Loki headed to his room. It was adequate, he decided, but that was the greatest accolade he could award it.

After setting up a number of wards and barriers to protect him from being unknowingly overheard or disturbed, he snatched a few hours of sleep and woke early enough to catch the culprit before he left on that day’s errand.

“Good morning.” He droned from a spot behind the man, who was busying himself attaching false plates to a stolen motorcycle.

The man jumped, swore and spun to face him, climbing quickly to his feet.

“Jesus, give a man a heart attack, why don’t you?”

“There are far more reliable ways to achieve that than simply alarming someone.” Loki warned, pushing away from the box he leant on to stalk towards the man. A twist of his fingers surrounded them with an illusion so all the cameras watching them would see was Loki and the man talking about one of the facility’s many women.

“My name is Jack Frost. I have been hired to find out and kill the man who has infiltrated this organisation. I now have found you. I don’t care who you work for, or what information you have given to them. I will give you 24 hours before I reveal your identity to our illustrious employer. I strongly suggest you use that time to remove yourself from this position. Kindly tell your _other_ employer that next time they may wish to employ someone with a more solid grasp of subterfuge.”

He did not stay to listen to the man’s stuttered response, instead turning on his heel and slipping away. He spent the day pretending to comb through the organisations files, mentally cataloguing the key players in the scene, searching in particular for records of dealings with other establishments in the same group across other countries.

That evening, he spoke to the guard on the front, a man whose genial nature and pleasant face were marred only by his sadistic pleasure at the fate of the girls that came through his gate. During the day Loki had quickly identified this man as a central source of gossip, and it was through him that he learned how the spy had escaped.

“You hear about the arrest today?” The man asked as he lit up the cigarette Loki had offered him. Loki only shook his head, gesturing for the man to continue. “I think his name was Perks, or Polick or something. Got busted by the cops for fake plates on his bike. Apparently the ones he tacked on there belonged on some truck or something, so he was fucked soon as they checked ‘em.”

“That seems like a rather idiotic mistake.” Loki mused, “What was he supposed to have been doing?”

“Christ, fucked if I know, I’m just the guard.”

Loki just offered him another cigarette.

“Might’ve been something to do with getting a payment off some bigwig lawyer who bought one of our girlies.” The guard offered, taking three. “Travels a lot I think, leaves the bitch at home when he goes so his mates can have a go.”

Loki forced his mouth straight, concentrating for a moment on stopping the disgusted curl of his lip. He filed the information away along with the rest of what he had gathered that day, and tuned out the rest of the guard’s despicable drivel, instead debating internally how to handle the spy’s departure.

He could now safely accuse the real culprit, but that would put suspicion on every case he had ever handled, perhaps meaning girls like the one at this lawyer’s house would be removed before their presence could be confirmed by the police.

Alternatively, he could lay the blame at another’s feet. Now there was just the choice between the embezzling accountant, or the disgusting guard still rambling on about the time he was allowed in to visit some of the girls. He excused himself, and headed to Kane’s office. By the time he knocked on the door, he had reached a decision.

“The man on the gate.” He opened, walking in without waiting for a response, “He is not your sneak, but he is a gossip. You may wish to warn him of the dangers of speaking too openly. As for the offender… I have narrowed it down considerably, and will be continuing my investigation today. Kindly find some excuse for my continued presence here.”

Again, he turned and left the room without waiting to hear Kane’s reply. Early the next morning a thug knocked on his door to summon him back to Kane’s office. He sat down smoothly in the chair Kane waved him to, and leant back, fingers steepled as he waited expectantly.

“You’ll be a messenger.” Kane began, and Loki nodded in acceptance. Delivering threats was something he excelled in, and taking a role within the organisation would give him a far greater insight than just looking at the paperwork. “Do you have my information?” Kane asked.

“I believe so. Give me half an hour to compile my evidence and I will return.” Kane nodded, and Loki rose to leave.

He returned well within his allotted time, a few papers in his hand which highlighted the accountant’s misdeeds, as well as a few happy coincidences which placed him under reasonable suspicion for a few of the real infiltrator’s botched jobs. Convincing Kane of the man’s guilt was not difficult, nor was it hard to persuade him that Loki should be given the task of interrogation – and left in peace to work.

Preferring not to mess around, Loki forced the man to scream audibly a few times, just for the sake of convincing Kane of his proficiency, then killed him quickly and – relatively – painlessly. He felt barely a flicker of long-since-denied remorse at killing a man who, despite innocent of the charge levelled him, was nonetheless guilty of far greater atrocities just by working for a trafficking ring.

“Ex-police.” He lied later, “discharged after – truthful – rape accusations – got out of jail-time on a technicality.  Working alone in some misguided attempt to ‘make amends.’”

“Will there be another trying to infiltrate us?” Kane asked, leaning forwards in his chair.

“Possibly.” Loki replied, knowing that in truth there would likely be a new spy in the ranks within a week. “He claimed to have shared information with ‘friends,’ but actually managed to avoid telling me who. I believe he was close to breaking point when he unfortunately suffocated as a result of the holes in his lungs.”

He was lying through his teeth of course – the agonised screams coming from Loki’s improvised interrogation room had been produced using nothing more brutal than an armlock, and the man had broken within seconds, snivelling as he disclosed every guilty secret of his embezzlement – Loki fully intended to claim some of the better-hidden funds, though he would return the majority to its proper place to avoid suspicion falling onto him.

Kane seemed satisfied with his response though. “Will you be disposing of the body?”

“It is taken care of.”

“How efficient. I want you to stick around, keep an eye out for these friends of his.”

“Certainly, assuming my rates will continue.”

Kane nodded.

“Very well, then if you will excuse me.”

* * *

 

Loki occupied the next few weeks delivering threats and demands to the Warehouse’s miscellaneous clients. On one occasion, circumstances conspired to force him to bring a woman back to the warehouse after her buyer failed to complete his transaction. That evening, he took himself away from the building to a nearby dive-bar, fully intending to drink himself into a near-stupor and bury his cock in someone enthusiastically consenting, just to remind himself that such a thing as a genuinely willing woman existed.

His dark mood only grew worse as he downed his drink, and he soon abandoned the idea of seeking carnal fulfilment, knowing that given his anger and frustration, such a coupling would not end happily for his partner. So locked was he in his seething self-loathing that he failed to notice the woman until she sat down on the seat directly opposite him.

“Jack Frost?” She asked without preamble.

Loki looked her over. Young – perhaps 19 or 20 – though he was the first to acknowledge that such appearances could be deceiving. Well-honed physique - considerably too much muscle tone for it to be the result of merely casual exercise. Drop-dead gorgeous, but unusual enough features that her beauty could probably pass under the radar when she wanted it to.

“Sometimes.” He responded.

“Drop the accent, I know a fake when I hear one.”

“Then you are one of few.” Loki replied, relaxing the slight Russian tinge he had habitually layered into his words of late, and allowing his voice to return to its natural tones and rhythms. “I assume you are the replacement?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you propose to get yourself in?” He drew reluctantly on his magic, sobering himself entirely for the coming conversation.

“How would any woman get into that place?” The woman’s face remained entirely blank, a twitch of one immaculately groomed eyebrow the only variation in her expression.

For all his detached demeanour, Loki felt a chill run through him. She would willingly subject herself to the treatment of a woman in the trafficking industry?

“Why?”

“Because I’ve had worse. And these girls shouldn’t have to.”

Worse. What worse could there be than having your every dignity stripped away? A part of Loki railed at him to protest that she could not possibly have any idea of the atrocities she could be submitting herself to, but something in the hardened lines of her exquisite face told him that yes, she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Pretty words, but you are little more than a girl yourself.” Loki retorted, keeping his gaze assessing, but ultimately indifferent. “What do you want from me?”

“I need you to take me in. Say you found…”

“No.” Loki cut her off. “It is well known in the compound that I am no big supporter of their operation. It would be out of character, besides which it would connect me to you. If you are caught suspicion will fall on me, and frankly my dear nothing would ruin my career quicker than suspected ‘connections.’”

He held back the sigh of relief as his agile mind quickly came up with a valid excuse not to take her in himself. For all his moral ambivalence, he could not bring himself to take another woman into that hellhole. Once was enough. One woman staring at him with the dead eyes of a creature entirely resigned to its miserable fate.

“Why warn my partner then, if you’re not going to help us?”

“Because I don’t care. You can get yourself in, or you can give up. Ultimately it makes little difference so long as I get my pay-out at the end of it. I won’t turn you in unless you fuck up so badly ignoring it would make me look incompetent. So don’t fuck up.”

He didn’t give her a chance to argue. He stood and left the bar, stalking back to the Warehouse and up to his bed.

However, try as he might to remind himself he did not care, he could not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he could not help but picture the beautiful spy. This was no heady fantasy though, nothing so pleasant. In his dreams the stoic woman was reduced to a cowering wretch who stared up at him with the listless eyes of a victim.


	5. Competence

Two dull weeks later, Loki happened across an interesting scene. A woman was squirming on the floor in the middle of the corridor, her blindfold fallen off and shrieking through a poorly executed gag whilst the man who – presumably – was escorting her in was doubled up in pain, clutching at his groin.

Smirking at the sight, Loki moved to simply step over the woman, unable to bring himself to actively assist in her transportation. He had to look down though, to avoid her still flailing legs, and he froze for a fraction of a second when he recognised the face looking back at him. The spy. Her hair was different, now peroxide blonde and curled unnaturally, and she had put on weight so her muscular physique was softened and disguised.

“New one?” He asked casually, poking at her disinterestedly with the toe of his foot. “Pretty thing, if a little trashy-looking.”

The woman shrieked her offence at him and he chuckled, kneeling down to fix her blindfold, and re-tie her gag more efficiently.

“Calm yourself dear, there is precious little you can do help yourself. In fact I fear you may have made things worse for yourself with that little show of defiance. I will take her from here, Moreno. Apparently she requires a somewhat more competent hand. Where were you headed before you were brutalised by a restrained little girl?”

“Kane.” Moreno wheezed, still too busy recovering his dignity to protest Loki’s further insult to it.

Nodding, Loki tugged the woman with him along the corridors, pulling out one of his trusty knives to press into her back. He moved the knife to rest on her jugular as he let go of his grip on her to open the door to Kane’s office.

“Delivery for you, Kane.” He drawled. “She was with Moreno but apparently she was too much for him.” He chuckled humourlessly. “Wherever did he find her?”

“Stupid bitch signed up to stay with him on some sofa-surfing website.” Kane grinned. “Pretty hot one, huh?”

“Enough that I find myself wanting to call in the terms of our agreement.” Loki agreed, infusing his voice with surprise – at himself. “Might I return her to you tomorrow?” A tear slipped from under the blindfold and ran down the woman’s cheek. Very convincing.

Kane frowned, and Loki assumed he had been planning to ‘sample’ the woman himself. He shifted his grip on the knife subtly, but enough that Kane would notice it was now threatening to spit from Loki’s hand towards him. Eying the knife nervously, Kane nodded. Loki grinned viciously, winding a hand into the woman’s hair and leading her back out the door. Back in his own room, he made short work of the woman’s gag and blindfold, though he left her wrists as they were, and tied her loosely to a chair first to stave off any immediate difficulties.

“Really?” The woman asked, glancing exasperatedly at her bound wrists.

“Really.” Loki agreed. “I am an unknown quantity who is aware of your identity. Logically there is a significant possibility of you deciding to remove the risk factor. I do not wish this to be an issue, hence you are restrained.” The woman shrugged unapologetically. “Is this an appropriate moment for me to congratulate you on your successful infiltration? Or should I be commiserating your impending loss of virtue?” The woman’s eyes darted to the door. “We will not be overheard, I have long since ensured that.” Loki added, correctly interpreting her concern. Fortunately she only nodded in understanding, rather than demanding details of how he had achieved that.

“I haven’t had virtue for a long time, so the former I think.”

Such hardness in one so young astounded even Loki.

“Very well then. A masterful performance. The tears were a nice touch.”

“Thank you. You did a good job of acting like an entitled, heartless bastard.”

“Oh that was no act. I am the very best at my job, Kane knows he is lucky to still have me on his side. Usually I bore of a job well before this point and move on.”

“So why not this one?”

Loki did not skip a beat in his response, though the question echoed in his head. Normally he would have long since moved on from a job he found so reprehensible, but something about this place was drawing him in.

“Watching you and yours play spy so inefficiently has provided me with enough amusement to hold my attention for a time.” Loki deflected. “Who is your employer?”

“Like I would tell you that.”

“Hmm yes I thought that might be your response. Can you tell me what your interests in this operation are?”

“That depends. What are yours? Of the two of us, I’m the one in the weaker position within this organisation, so I currently stand with far more to lose. I’m not giving up my secrets until you do.” The woman’s words were accurate, but Loki suspected that she was in no more danger of being held against her will than he was. Already he could see her subtly working herself free of his – admittedly lacklustre – restraints, though he gave no indication that he had noticed.

“Then it appears we are at an impasse. I have held no counsel save my own for far longer than a youthful chit such as you could comprehend. I will not part with my secrets without motive.”

“And what motive would you need?”

The woman paused after her question. To the untrained eye it would appear she was merely awaiting a reply, but Loki saw the tensing of her muscles and prepared himself. He opened his mouth as though about to respond and she struck. Snakelike, she flicked the chair she was now somehow loose from around with her foot, aiming to smash it into his side. Without checking on her success she then darted for the knife he had laid down nearby. She was fast, but Loki was faster. Deflecting the thrown chair he lunged at the woman, trapping her wrists and sending them both tumbling to the floor, crushing her beneath him.

The air left her body in a huff as Loki landed on top of her and he tsked.

“Kane will be annoyed with me now for returning you damaged. Please avoid behaving in a manner that will force me to injure you for real.” He made no attempt to hide his uncommon strength as the woman tried to manoeuvre herself around him to escape. His fingers pressed bruises into her wrists, tightening relentlessly until she gave up.

“That is more like it.” He purred. “Now, if you are quite finished with your little tantrum?” He went to release her, quickly catching her hand again when it flew to gouge at his eyes.

“Woman, I will quite gladly take you in hand should you force me. I will not interrupt your work. If you charm me I _may_ even offer my aid. I am growing bored with watching your little club stumble around. You know it took me little more than an hour to root out that imbecile you had here before? Pathetic. You seem slightly more competent, so all I ask is that you refrain from attempts to cause me injury. You would not be successful, of course, but it is irritating.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed at him, and she tugged her hand back. Loki held on a moment, long enough to make it clear that he was allowing her to withdraw from him, rather than her pulling herself away. She stared at him and he looked back unflinchingly, conveying a hint of his annoyance with the barest tilt of an eyebrow. Her gaze remained as calm as ever, but perhaps there was a touch more genuine wariness now.

“Now, unless you wish to go back and spend the night with Kane, might I suggest you calm the fuck down?” Loki requested exasperatedly.

“Fine.” The woman bit out, righting the chair and sitting herself down in it. “The question was a real one though. What motive would you need?”

Loki ignored the repeated question, instead stretching himself out luxuriously on the bed.

“Do you have a name, girl?” he drawled.

“Elena Ortega.” She offered, the name rolling easily from her tongue.

“A false name, I presume.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Oh I do protest. Jack Frost is the only name I have worn for years. I have another name, but it is known by me alone. To all intents and purposes, I am Jack Frost and no-one else.”

The briefest hint of emotion flicked into Elena’s eyes. Exactly what that emotion was, Loki was unclear. He suspected even the woman herself was uncertain. She did not seem practised in the art of feeling.

Then again, after so many decades of denying himself the luxury, neither was Loki.

His ears picked up approaching footsteps. Darting a mischievous grin at Elena, he relaxed the ward across the door that prevented them from being over heard, and began to kick his foot rhythmically against the head of the bed, driving it into the wall.

Elena looked at him like he was mad, eyes widening in understanding when moments later someone knocked at the door.

“Fuck off.” Loki shouted at the door.

“Kane wants you downstairs.”

“Tell him he’ll have to wait…” Loki slowed his movements briefly so the bed stopped thumping. “Oh, at least another forty minutes. I’m having far too much fun to stop now.” He slapped his hands together hard with a salacious wink at Elena, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. He resumed banging the bedframe against the wall, even adding in a grunt of pleasure for good measure. “Now kindly fuck off and let me get on with it or he’ll be waiting even longer.”

The footsteps retreated again and Loki waited a moment, re-establishing his sound-barrier before laughing richly at the half amused, half disgusted expression on the woman’s face.

“Forty minutes?” She commented cynically.

“I assure you my dear, I can more than back that up if you care to try.”

Elena just fixed him with a blank stare. “But was it really necessary?”

“Not just necessary, but really rather enjoyable.”

She snorted lightly, the mood in the room far more relaxed than it had been previously.

“So what _do_ we do for the next 40 minutes?”

“Well, I have a few suggestions.” Loki offered, only half joking.

“To quote you, kindly fuck off.” She shot back.

“Shame. I wager you would have secretly loved the spanking.”

She just rolled her eyes.

Instead, they passed the forty minutes each trying to push the other into revealing something of their motives, mission or methods. Neither quite succeeded, though Loki found herself quite certain that she was relatively new to whatever organisation she was affiliated with. He was sure she had pulled some slight deduction from him too, but even the most skilled reader of people would never guess at his true origins, and aside from that there was no single truth to his background, only a collage of different pictures he had built up in different places across the years.

Ten minutes before they had to leave, he called a halt to their mental game of chess.

“I hate to appear less than a gentleman, but we will have to do something about your appearance. I am not leaving you up here alone, which means you will be coming with me, which in turn means you must look ravished enough to do credit to my reputation.”

The woman stood with another small snort of amusement, and efficiently rearranged her clothing so it appeared to have been rapidly thrown back on without much care to appearance, only cover.

Ducking into the bathroom, Loki dolloped facial cleanser onto a flannel and returned, offering it to her to smear her makeup down her cheeks, reaching out as she worked to worm his fingers into her hair and tease it into a tangled mess.

Finally, without ceremony, he pulled her lips to his in a bruising kiss. His teeth dug into her lower lip, tormenting it until he was quite certain it would appear red and swollen. His hand slipped down from her hair to rip the fabric of her flimsy top, exposing her bra as a couple of buttons pinged away into the corners of his room.

The kiss was purely functional, but nonetheless heated as he sought to recreate the ravages of a full hour in a bare few minutes. Despite himself, he found himself enjoying the process as he dipped down to suck dark marks into her neck, biting down hard on her collarbone so she jumped slightly beneath him. He lifted his head one more time to crash his lips down onto hers, then threw himself back when she bit him back, hard enough to break the skin.

“Was that really necessary?” He growled, blood welling in his mouth and trickling down his skin.

“It’s an excuse for you to hit me.” Elena retorted. “You said it yourself, I’m hot. I need you to ‘damage’ me enough to delay them moving me on or I’ll be packed off somewhere else before I can do anything here.”

Loki rolled his eyes.

“Well you could just have said so.”

“I could. But this way you’re annoyed, so you’re less likely to pull your punches.”

Loki didn’t bother responding verbally, only balled his fingers and drove them into the side of her face, knocking her to the floor and kicking her in the ribs for good measure.

Elena pushed herself up, wincing.

“Broken ribs. Good, that’s a couple of weeks at least.”

“You are an odd creature.” Loki observed. For a moment, he entertained the possibility that this woman might be like him - how else could one who appeared so young have such a disturbingly practical attitude towards her own body? But there was no way to confirm his suspicions without revealing far more of himself than he was willing to, so he held his tongue.

Without further delay, he took her arm in a bruising grip and dragged her out the door with him. As they walked, she began to pull in quiet sobs, holding her side tenderly and adjusting back to the character she had assumed. He moved his hand to twist in her hair, uncertain what to expect in Kane’s office but confident in his ability to adapt.


	6. Define 'necessary?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, having been around a long time, and not really one for keeping things the same, Loki is one kinky fella, and that comes out a bit in this chapter. However, it's not everyone's cup of tea, nor is it particularly necessary to the story, so I've taken that section out of the main narrative (between the asterisks). I’m going to put it in notes at the end of the chapter if you want to read the kinkier version!

“What the hell could have happened that you felt the need to interrupt my evening?” Snarled Loki as he walked into the office without knocking.

“Shit Frost what happened to you?” Kane asked, looking annoyed. “And what the fuck have you done to the girl?”

“Surely it cannot be hard to put two and two together?” Loki droned. “She bit me. I was not happy. She will _not_ be doing it again.”

Elena choked out another sob.

“Where do I put her when I’m done?” Loki asked, rolling his eyes. “I won’t have her snivelling keeping me up all night.”

Kane rummaged in his desk and tossed Loki a key. “In there. Just dump her whenever. Now, you have a job tomorrow.”

He slid a file over the desk.

“Adam Polkiss, arrested a couple weeks ago – tried to drive a motorbike with the plates for a semi, the moron. Higher-ups are worried he’ll agree to talk. They want him dead, I’m delegating to you.”

The photo in the front of the file was that of the previous infiltrator. Picking up the picture so Elena could see it, Loki nodded.

“I assume you have details of where he is being kept?” He asked tonelessly, mind whirring. He would presumably have to provide evidence of this man’s death. Perhaps a photo of his body, or a death report from some government agency. He could always claim distaste as reasoning for refusing to cart around actual body parts – he had cultivated a reputation prissy enough that no-one would seriously question his reluctance, and dangerous enough that no-one would dare do so out loud.

“Queens.”

A fairly easy job then – or at least it would be if their information was accurate – Loki had no doubt the man remained entirely un-detained.

“Very well then. I will get that done tomorrow. Now, if you will excuse us, I have an appointment.” His hand dropped to pinch Elena’s arse and she squawked indignantly.

“Get the hell out of my sight Frost.”

Loki sketched an unquestionably mocking bow and retreated, pulling the tearful Elena with him.

* * *

Back in his room he allowed her to pull free of his grip on her arm and threw himself gracefully down into the more comfortable of his two chairs, forcing Elena to take the hard wooden chair she had been tied to earlier.

“I will need a way to contact your agency.” He demanded, not bothering with any preamble.

“I don’t have…” Loki just stared at her. Did she think him a fool? She sighed, reached down and pulled off a particularly ugly toe ring. “There’s a transmitter in here, inside the ring. The ring itself is made of a new material we developed that is blocking the signal at the moment so I could get it in here without it being found if they scanned me. Take it somewhere in New York, break it open so it can transmit your location, and wait. It shouldn’t take long for someone to come find you.”

Loki nodded, taking the toe ring with only a small twist of his lips to betray his opinion of it.

Elena laughed. “The ugly ones get stolen less.” She explained.

“I am more concerned with the fact that it has been on your foot for God only knows how long.” Loki admitted.

“I’m sure you’ve encountered worse,” Elena deadpanned. Loki did not need to speak to concede that she was right. He slid the ring into a pocket.

“We will wait a while longer and then I will drop you in what is to be your lodgings.”

“Right.” Elena nodded. She hesitated for a moment, so brief Loki might had missed it had he not been cautiously tracking her every movement. “We will need to fabricate more evidence. Since you came up with the bright idea of pretending not to be done with me…” her voice twisted sarcastically towards the end.

Loki just grinned unabashedly and was in front of her in moments, crushing her face to his with a commanding hand at the back of her neck. He ripped her top the rest of the way down and grasped her breast roughly, laughing at her angry yell, muffled by his lips.

“My dear, we are both beautiful people.” He murmured into her ear. “This is a necessity, but that does not mean we cannot enjoy ourselves whilst we are at it.”

An annoyed huff was the only response he got, but he rightly took it for her acquiescence, latching his teeth onto her earlobe as her fingers wound reluctantly into his hair.

(*)

Many long, heated minutes later, Loki was having far more fun than was professionally justifiable. He had spun Elena round and pressed her against the wall to mark some of his attentions down her back and luscious arse. This done, he found he now lacked an excuse to continue.

With a supreme act of willpower, he turned back to face him, and they were caught. Their pupils were both blown wide, eyes held together by some un-nameable force. (*) Arousal obvious, they stood frozen for the best part of ten seconds before Loki pulled himself back, turning sharply away.

“You should shower.” He bit out. “Lest someone question the absence of my… seed.”

She slipped wordlessly away, closing the door of the bathroom behind her with a quiet snap.

Alone in his room, Loki slumped against the wall, breathing heavily as he tried to dampen his erection. His mind was whirling at the painful juxtaposition between the cool detachment of necessity and the raw passion of their mutual arousal.

Shaking himself out of those thoughts with a muted growl, he set about gathering a few items whilst he waited for Elena to emerge from the shower. She did not take long, emerging from the shower looking for all the world as though she had just been thoroughly fucked in there. But the lack of bodily fluids painted across her hair and skin was explained, at least.

Loki pulled on a jacket and smoothed the fabric down delicately. If he was going to meet with some manner of spy organisation he wanted to be sure he was well dressed for it… not that he really possessed any item of clothing that couldn’t be described as devastatingly stylish.

“Can you tell me anything more about your employers? I am going in blind so it would be helpful to have some reassurance that they do not intend upon shooting me on sight.”

Elena just shook her head. “They won’t shoot you without talking to you first. That’s all I can give you.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Loki groaned. “Well, we had best get this over with then. I will drop you in your quarters and be back to ‘use’ you again before long, in order that I might update you.”

She stepped in, demanding another of his searing kisses to complete her debauched appearance, and then stepped back, already sinking into character with her eyes filling with tears. For Loki it was somewhat disturbing to see a woman he had just kissed look so broken. He suppressed a shiver and picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder, reassuring himself of her autonomy when she broke character for a short moment to curse at him for not warning her. He resumed the blank lines he habitually kept his face in when striding the corridors of the building and strode out of his room whilst Elena struggled weakly against his grip.

* * *

The room they entered reeked of sex and misery. There was a single bed with a cheap metal frame, an open set of cuffs attached to the headboard to secure its unlucky occupier if necessary, a small sink and a bucket that, judging by the smell, was all they had for a toilet. There was no window, and nothing on the walls.

Dropping Elena heavily onto the bed Loki ignored her slight grunt as the movement jarred her ribs. He glared around the room in distaste, then turned his displeasure onto the woman in front of him.

“I will have to secure you.” He said, a subtle flick of his fingers ensuring they were safe from listening ears. “None can hear us.” He was quite sure his spell had escaped her notice when she glanced cautiously at the closed door. “They make these rooms soundproof.” Loki sneered, leaning in to whisper darkly in her ear. “Take a guess as to why. There are still cameras though, corner behind me and the direct opposite. They do not have microphones, but they can see you, so make sure you look appropriately scared of me.”

Elena nodded. “Fasten me by my left wrist.” She demanded, lips barely moving. Loki gave her no acknowledgement other than reaching out to pull her left wrist roughly up to the headboard.

That done, he resisted the odd temptation to rearrange her clothes to cover her better. She had not put her knickers back on after he had removed them, so she was almost entirely exposed. Instead, he ran his hands lecherously down her frame. She kicked out as his hands grazed her centre and he rose, fury on his face for the camera to see as he leaned up and wrapped one hand around her throat, leaning in close.

He thought there was a hint of genuine fear in her expression for a moment, before he relaxed his fingers enough that she was no longer choking. Without relaxing his face from its furious lines, he spoke again, looking for all the world as though he were hurling insults.

“I’m afraid I will have to bruise you a little, don’t panic I do not intend to kill you.” His fingers tightened again and her eyes bulged as her air was cut off. “Do try not to get yourself killed by anyone else, this is finally getting amusing.” He flexed his hand, giving her a quick gasp of air before cutting it off again. He was struck again by a wave of nausea at the situation he was leaving her in. His own brutal treatment of her was necessary and agreed to, but as soon as he left she would be willingly at the mercy of others who would be doing it purely for their own sick pleasure.

“Be careful.” He murmured, so softly she might not have heard him. He continued only slightly louder, “I apologise for what I am about to do,” then spat in her face and turned, striding out of the room without looking back and locking the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*) Loki just grinned unabashedly and was in front of her in moments, crushing her face to his with a commanding hand at the back of her neck. He ripped her top the rest of the way down and grasped her breast roughly, laughing at her angry yell, muffled by his lips.   
> “My dear, we are both beautiful people.” He murmured into her ear. “This is a necessity, but that does not mean we cannot enjoy ourselves whilst we are at it.”  
> An annoyed huff was the only response he got, but he rightly took it for her acquiescence, latching his teeth onto her earlobe as her fingers wound reluctantly into his hair.   
> He teased her for nearly ten minutes, alternating violent kisses with soft caresses across her face and neck, tracking slowly down to her breasts, leaving a trail of bite marks in his wake. In the interest of keeping things at least a little on track, he did not bother to remove her bra, only brushed his lips briefly over the spot where one peaked nipple pushed against the fabric.   
> Straightening to his full height, he loomed over her and grasped her wrists tightly, spinning her round to face the wall and lifting them easily over her head to hold them with one hand.   
> “Now, I believe we will need some evidence of a thorough spanking?” He purred. Elena nodded jerkily and his hand skated over her short skirt, pushing it up to bunch around her waist. Her knickers were pushed down to settle around her slightly parted ankles. He continued to smooth his free hand over her pert rear as he spoke smoothly.   
> “Normally this is the point where you would be ordered not to make a sound, but I think in this case it is best that I allow those outside to hear you making some quite spectacular complaints, don’t you?” She nodded again and he continued. “I will continue until I am sure the mark will not fade immediately. I am quite confident that you will handle yourself admirably.”  
> And with that he began, lifting his hand to fall sharply onto her waiting skin. The sound that echoed around the room was quite delicious, as was her slight whimper. At this point it was no doubt entirely faked. If this woman was prepared to sell out her body for a case such as this, she was doubtless accustomed to a little pain. He continued, not holding back much of his considerable strength until her whimpers came a little more genuine, before escalating into exaggerated moans and sobbing cries for mercy, begging for him to stop. Her skin gradually flushed to a deep red and Loki found he was enjoying himself rather more than could be professionally justified. Fortunately, judging by the glistening he could just about glimpse between her thighs when he sank down to add a few bite marks (entirely unnecessary, but he really couldn’t resist, and her surprised yelps were funny), so was she.   
> He let fall one last heavy blow, then stepped back, soothing her heated flesh with the natural coolness of his palms.   
> “Yes that will do nicely,” he decided. “Well done, pretty one.”  
> She turned back to face him, and they were caught. Their pupils were blown wide, eyes held together by some un-nameable force. Arousal obvious, they stood frozen for the best part of ten seconds before Loki pulled himself back, turning sharply away. (*)


	7. Bargains

Loki dropped the keys to Elena’s room onto Kane’s empty desk and headed to the garage, selecting a fast motorbike and roaring away towards New York. He pushed the bike to its very top speed, more anxious than he liked to admit to leave Elena alone at the warehouse for too long. Still, it took him several hours driving through the night to reach the outskirts of the city. Another hour or so was spent hanging around in the area near Queen’s jail assuring he had not been followed from the base. He had not, so he parked the bike and cloaked it with magic, then transported himself to an alleyway along 35th and walked until he found a café. He ordered a cup of terrible tea, sat at a table by the window and broke the ring, peering with interest at the small tangle of wires that emerged from the inside. Sipping disdainfully at his tea, he glanced at the clock, then turned his gaze to the street outside.

15 minutes later a short, stocky man sat down in the chair opposite him. He wore a suit similar in style to Loki’s, no doubt to give the illusion of an early morning business meeting. Unlike Loki though, he looked uncomfortable in his suit, tugging self-consciously on the cuffs. Field agent then, unused to dressing for an office.

“Sorry I’m late,” the man burbled absentmindedly, “got caught by my secretary on the way out and missed the train.” He spoke casually, and utterly convincingly, suddenly looking much more comfortable in his suit. A good actor – definitely a field agent.

“Not at all, I know all too well what the underg- excuse me, subway, around here can be like.” Loki soothed. “I was quite happy to relax a moment whilst I waited – I so rarely get the opportunity these days, you know.”

“Tell me about it,” the man chuckled. Through the window Loki saw a dark-windowed car pull up outside.

“I have a car waiting, Mr Wren.” He improvised. “Shall we?”

The man didn’t blink at Loki’s made-up name for him, only followed his gaze and nodded easily.

“Great. So, tell me more about this restaurant we’re going to? It sounds fantastic, how long have you had your eye on it?”

They made small talk as though they were a pair of businessmen on the way out to the car, Loki sliding in one side whilst the man walked around to the other. The back of the car was laid out like a limo, with seats on either side of the car facing each other. Loki sat calmly back in his seat and observed the man who had been waiting in the car, ‘Mr Wren’ seating himself next to him so they both stared across at Loki.

This new man was obviously more accustomed to wearing a suit. Experienced in the field if his utterly blank demeanour was anything to go by, but long since promoted to… perhaps something akin to a line manager?

“Agent Coulson.” He introduced himself, reaching a hand across the gap between the seats.

“Jack Frost.” Loki responded, taking the hand and shaking it briefly before they both sat back.

“Yes, we’ve been keeping tabs on you – or rather, trying to – for a few years now. You’re very difficult to pin down, Mr Frost.”

“Thank you,” Loki nodded, taking the comment as a compliment it was not truly intended as.

“Given your slippery nature and your… checkered history, you’ll understand why I’m a little concerned that you have contacted us using a transmitter belonging to our agent. Any particular reason for that?” Coulson asked without preamble.

“Of course there is. I have been ordered to kill the man you previously had inside. Apparently someone thinks he might talk. I will need your assistance in fabricating the necessary evidence of that man’s gruesome demise.”

Coulson nodded. He pulled out a phone and made a quick call, issuing his orders calmly into the handset with the ease of a man who is used to being listened to.

“Is N- Elena OK?” The other agent asked.

“As much as can be. A little roughed up, I am afraid, as we had to create the impression of a most unpleasant – for her – encounter between the two of us.”

The man’s fists clenched a little, and Loki decided to clarify, in the interest of keeping things civil. “I assure you, it was almost entirely her idea."

“She is successfully embedded, then?” Coulson asked, finished with his phonecall.

“I would say so, yes. I have not heard of any suspicions, and given that I was hired for the express purpose of hunting down any rats, I would be one of the first to know if there were whispers of her.”

“Good.”

The rest of their journey was conducted in silence, all three men looking carefully away from each other. Loki ran his eyes over the inside of the car and the two agents in it, then turned his gaze to the streets outside, tracking their location as the streets zipped by. Unbeknownst to the two agents, he also stretched out his more magical senses to investigate the workings of the car. It was astoundingly complex, obviously high-end with a few features even Loki could not begin to guess at the purpose of.

For the last 10 minutes of the journey, the windows shuttered so they could not see outside the car, and the driver took a roundabout route in an effort to throw Loki off their exact location. They stepped out of the car in an underground garage belonging to what appeared to be a pretty generic government building. Waiting for them in the office was the man who Loki had warned away from his infiltration. He did not look overly pleased to see him, so naturally Loki could not help but take this as an invitation to annoy him further.

“Ah hello agent, how pleasant to see you again,” he began. “I’ve been ordered to kill you, so tell me, how would you like to die? I thought beheading might be rather fun.”

The agent just glared.

“Perhaps difficult to fake without extensive preparation though… unless you have a good facsimile of your own head lying around somewhere, that you don’t mind dirtying up with a little blood?”

“Mr Frost, if you would take a seat.” Agent Coulson interrupted his game.

“Sitting is a rather impractical position for an assassination, Agent Coulson.” Loki responded. “Perhaps a bloodstained item of clothing might be more appropriate?”

“Perhaps, we could simply agree on a story for now?” Coulson insisted. “Plastic garrotting wire seems most appropriate given that you will supposedly have got the weapon past security into a jail cell. I have secured us a replica of an empty cell to shoot evidential photographs in.”

“I suppose that would be acceptable.” Loki acquiesced. Then he turned back to the agent. “Now, how good are you at playing dead? I do hope better than playing spy, or Miss Ortega and I will be in rather deep peril.”

“With respect, Agent Coulson, why are we pandering to this guy?” The agent snapped.

“Doesn’t sound particularly respectful, if you ask me.” Loki offered, but was ignored.

“He is obviously just toying with us, he could tell them everything as soon as he gets back. He’s not the least bit trustworthy.”

“Certainly not,” Loki agreed cheerfully. “But Agent Coulson appears to be plenty intelligent enough to have realised that long ago, if the several armed agents currently stationed right outside the door to this room are anything to go by.”

“I was wondering if you’d noticed that.” Coulson nodded. “I am curious, Mr Frost, why you are offering us your aid in this.”

“Because I am bored, and this is amusing.” Loki replied.

“And?”

“And nothing.” Loki insisted, keeping his face smooth. “You have my aid in this because I find it diverting. Do not try to read further into the matter, it will serve no-one well. Least of all Miss Ortega.”

“Very well.” Coulson’s face gave nothing away. The agent Loki had called Mr Wren remained similarly unaffected in his expression, but his hands balled into fists again. Loki wondered absently if the man was aware he had a tell. Meanwhile Polkiss, or whatever his real name was, had made no attempt whatsoever to hide his annoyance, and was glaring hatefully at Loki.

“Please Mr Polkiss,” Loki stressed the agent’s fake name tauntingly. “I realise your incompetence must be frustrating for you, but your role as a dead man will no doubt be vital to the entire operation.”

“Perhaps we had best get on with things.” Coulson spoke before the agent could muster an angry response. “Mr Frost, you’ll understand if my entourage accompany us to the cell?”

“My dear Agent Coulson, I’d be rather disappointed if they didn’t.” Loki crooned. “It is _so_ pleasant not to be underestimated.”

Agent not-Polkiss huffed and stalked out ahead of them. They arrived at the cell and he was sat grumpily on the bed, waiting. Loki winked at Agent Coulson, and was on him in a flash, plastic garrotte wire appearing from one of his hidden pockets to wrap realistically around the man’s throat. Every gun in the room was suddenly raised to focus on him and he laughed pleasantly, holding himself still as the agent thrashed angrily against him.

“I have a style, gentlemen. If we had attempted to simulate this entirely non-violently, with someone else applying the garrotte as was no-doubt your intention, it would be clear to the close observer that it was not my own work. Admittedly my would-be-boss is not the brightest spark, and would likely be fooled by a spot of photoshop, but he may well be in the employ of sharper men.”

He released the garrotte and tripped the agent so he fell to the floor.

“How does it look, Agent Coulson? Mr Wren?” He asked cheerfully. “I think I’ve done a rather good job, myself. Oh do put the guns down, he’s obviously not really dead.” He prodded not-Polkiss with his toe.  “Stop moving, you imbecille.”

Coulson did not look impressed. Though he didn’t look overly upset either. “It will do. Take your photograph then.”

Loki took one, then Coulson took a few to be published in the local newspaper the following day.

Not-Polkiss remained obligingly motionless until Coulson told him to get up. He rose with a furious glare at Loki, rubbing at his throat and throwing the tangled garrotte wire into a corner of the room.

Tutting, Loki went to collect it. “Really, could you not have a little more respect for my belongings?” He asked, coiling the plastic carefully and stowing it away.

“Yes, I’m not overly pleased you decided to bring your own murder weapon, Mr Frost. Doesn’t give the best impression, you see.” Coulson spoke, deadpan.

“If you expected me to come unarmed, you are a far greater fool than I have yet given you credit for.” Loki pointed out.

“Indeed. I assume that was not the only weapon you carry?”

“I plead the fifth.” Loki grinned.

“That’s a yes.” Not-Wren said, eyes scanning Loki for further concealed weapons.

Loki just shrugged eloquently. “I believe we are finished here?”

“Not quite. What can you tell us about the organisation? Obviously this location is not the central one, but Agent Sterling never worked himself up to a senior-enough level to know of the wider operations of the group.”

“Of course he didn’t, he has no subtlety. There are a great many things I could tell you about this organisation, Agent, but what do you have for me in return?”

“You want a reward for trading in a sex-slave trafficker?” Not-Wren gaped at him, abhorrence in his eyes. “How about just because it’s sick what they’re doing?”

Loki tsk-ed at the agent. “Obviously not so sick that you wouldn’t send one of your own to enjoy their hospitality.”

The taunt gained the desired reaction. The agent reddened and started towards him, fists already raised.

“Barton.” Barked Agent Coulson, “Stand down.”

Barton. Loki smirked. He now had all their names. Although he had no intention to sell the information, he wondered idly how much it would be worth if he were to do so. Probably not a lot without also including the name of the organisation, and of their spy woman.

“I thought that might be your response.” Coulson continued, his tone cool. “I wonder if you are aware that you are currently a wanted criminal of no less than 47 states? I can make that disappear in exchange for your co-operation in bringing down this organisation entirely.”

“Goodness me, you seem to have quite the position of influence.” Loki cooed. “I am well aware that Jack Frost is a wanted man, but I am also aware that the inept federal forces of every one of those states have never even come close to catching me. Really, those arrest warrants are not worth the paper they are written on, given that they are unlikely to ever see the light of day.”

“You’re very confident in your ability to avoid the law.”

“With reason, I assure you.”

“So you won’t work with us?”

“Is that not what I have done thus far?” Loki raised his hands slightly to indicate the still wheezing Agent Sterling. “What would you call this if not co-operation?” He widened his eyes in a mocking farce of an innocent expression, then let both that and his hands drop at Coulson’s failure to react. “This is the most you will have of me, Agent Coulson. I suggest you pray to whatever deity is your wont that I do not decide to give with equal generosity to the other side.”

“Very well.” Coulson shrugged, his face betraying no disappointment, whatever the truth of the matter may have been. “Can we at least persuade you to return Agent Ortega’s jewellery to her?” He reached into the pocket of his non-descript suit and pulled out another transmitter identical to the first.

Loki made a show of considering. Barton was annoying, Sterling utterly ridiculous, but Coulson at least, with his air of unruffled indifference, had won some small measure of respect. As had Elena.

“Very well,” he sighed, trying to appear annoyed. “And how shall I contact you, should it be necessary?”

He was hardly even surprised when Coulson pulled out a similarly ugly ring sized roughly for a man’s finger. Loki slid it on, shifting his form slightly so the fit was snug.

“You are admirably well-prepared, Agent Coulson. And now? I suppose I should hurry to return your agent her means of escape.”

“If you wouldn’t mind.” Coulson gave him a tight mockery of a smile, which Loki returned in kind. “The car is this way.”

They dropped him off outside the same café he had met them in, and Loki walked quickly to his bike and rode away.

They were trying to follow him, he noticed with a smirk. Ineptly, at that. Perhaps they had put not-Polkiss in charge of the effort. He led them through the streets for a good few hours on a game of cat and mouse, before finally growing bored and disappearing altogether, transporting himself and his bike right out of the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, but future updates may be a little slower - things are ramping up a bit at work, and whilst I currently have a couple of chapters as buffer, I'd prefer not to loose that buffer and end up missing updates altogether!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter, please let me know what you think!   
> (I'm particularly interested in reactions to the previous chapter, as it is a little more risqué! )


	8. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait on this one! Life has been hitting me like a train, multiple times. 
> 
> Warning for this chapter: There is referenced non-con, and faked non-con. Nothing hugely explicit, but if either of those things are not-ok for you, I will put asterisks around possible areas of concern.

He arrived back at the warehouse by dusk that day. Stowing the bike, he went straight up to Kane’s office and tossed a few photographs on his desk.

“Prison security in this country is appalling,” He sniffed. “That was really rather duller than I had hoped. Is the girl still here? I need some _fun.”_ He layered the last word with disgusting intent, and Kane snickered.

“What the hell happened to ‘I can get a woman on my own?’” He asked, thumbing through the photos.

“I am bored,” Loki improvised.  “And you do not want me bored. It tends not to go well for my employers. This will entertain me. I am conducting an experiment.”

“What the hell kind of filthy experiment do you need a whore for?” Kane sneered.

“Not the variety you are thinking of.” Loki’s sneer put Kane’s to shame. “I wish to see if I can induce Stockholm Syndrome in the girl.”

“What?”

“For god’s sake man, have you never bothered to read?” Kane’s expression told Loki that the answer to his rhetorical question was ‘not really.’ “Stockholm Syndrome is where a prisoner begins to develop romantic feelings for their captor. I have heard of it, but never observed it. I am interested in the psychology of it. You may see me visiting the bitch more often than would otherwise occur. I want to see how quickly I can have her just as wet and willing as I prefer.”

“Fucking hell you’re weird. Go nuts, freakshow, but we’re moving her on soon as all that shit you did to her is healed. Half a mind to dock that from your fucking pay.”

“Well then, I had best get a move on.” He moved to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle and turning back. “She attacked me. I was well justified in retaliating – after all, I couldn’t have her thinking that sort of behaviour is acceptable. Take so much as a cent from my pay and I will deal out far worse injuries to you.” Loki strode out of the office, and straight to the room where he had left Elena.

*******

Frankly, he could not have orchestrated a better ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ set up if he had honestly sought to create one. He arrived to find none other than Moreno with his trousers round his ankles, pawing at Elena’s breasts. Elena protested rather more weakly than Loki knew she was truly capable of, so Moreno was holding her free wrist and legs down with little enough trouble.

Grabbing Moreno by the neck, Loki pulled him off Elena and threw him bodily out of the room and slammed the door behind him. He turned to face Elena himself and flicked his eyes imperceptibly to the cameras in the room. Her eyes widened in fear and she tracked his hands as he reached into his pocket, subtly pulling out the replacement for her toe-ring. She kicked out at him and he grabbed her foot, easily sliding the ring back on. He then held down her ankles and lowered his head to hide his face between her thighs. With the view of the cameras blocked, he spoke just loud enough for her to hear him.

“Sterling is an idiot. Fortunately your other colleagues are marginally less incompetent, so it is done. Kane believes Sterling dead, though regrettably that is not the case.”

Elena cringed away from where he was pretending to press his lips, and he lifted her ankles to hold them in one hand, using the other to hold her body down so it appeared as though she could not escape his touch.

“They wanted information about my employer, and his superiors.”

“Did you give it to them?” Elena asked, twisting her head as though she was gasping at the stimulation.

“Of course not. They had nothing to exchange for it.”

“What?” Elena’s outraged shout was less subtle.

“Oh don’t be trite. I am a mercenary. Morality rarely comes into play in my decisions.”

“But you at least appear to be aware of it enough to ignore it.” Elena’s voice was seething. It was more emotion than he had ever heard from her before, and he actually glanced up in surprise. Sure enough, furious eyes were burning down at him. Oddly unwilling to hold her stare, he turned his face to the side to cut a very real bite mark into the flesh of her thigh, the pain simultaneously distracting her and chasing the genuine emotion from her face.

“Reluctant orgasm, if you please?” He ordered. “Kane believes I am trying to induce Stockholm Syndrome in you, as pretext for my more regular visits.”

Elena let out an imitation of an orgasmic gasp, then replied. “You wouldn’t need to be finding a pretence if you’d just told them, you bastard.”

Loki just smiled wickedly at her and pretended to slide a finger into her, ducking his head back down to fake yet more enthusiastic attentions to her clit. He had not actually so much as brushed her naked flesh, but he could see the evidence of another man’s visit between her thighs and had to suppress a frisson of anger.

Elena began to tremble in an expertly faked orgasm, and Loki finally raised his head with a shark-like grin of satisfaction at her, whilst a tear trailed down her cheek.

Reaching up, he wiped it away and pulled her into his arms, trapping her there when she struggled weakly.

“I confess I am surprised by your outburst of emotion.” He began, referring not to the tear, but to her anger earlier in the conversation. “Has your resolve been shattered so quickly?”

“I don’t care what they do to me.” She shot back, and her words rang startlingly true. “But you lied to me, these rooms are not soundproof. I have spent all day listening to innocent women crying and begging whilst one of the pigs you work with rapes them. You had a chance to stop that _,_ and you didn’t. I gave you that transmitter because I thought you at least had enough soul left in you to save them from that kind of suffering. You may not have to go through it, but now more of those girls do, and it’s _your_ fault.”

Rage and guilt rose in equal measures in Loki’s chest. He suppressed the guilt out of habit, and the anger won out in his response.

“What could a child such as yourself know of suffering?” He spat, forgetting himself in the sudden torrent of fury. “You think willingly prostituting yourself to the cause gives you some sort of moral power over me? That letting one or two men rut between your thighs in pretence at helplessness allows you to dictate my actions? I have spent what amounts to near half your lifetime at the tender mercies of men with desires far darker than you could dream. Men in full possession of the means to realise those torments. Live through _that_ yourself, then speak to me of fault, and of suffering, you mewling quim.” His hold on her had tightened during his tirade, lacking the usual restraints he held on his strength, so Elena hissed painfully as he released her.

*******

He rose, and left, slamming the door behind him. He stalked the corridors, men moving out of his path without question the second they saw the fury in every line of his face. Back in his room, he conjured several delicate glasses and hurled them with all his strength at the wall, watching with satisfaction as they shattered beyond even his abilities to repair. Slowly, his anger calmed enough to allow him genuine consideration of Elena’s words, and the guilt she had awoken in him escaped from where he hid it.

Whatever kind of monster he may be, he was repulsed by the things going on at the warehouse. Perhaps he was somehow too practised in his facade of indifference. He was not unaffected by the girls’ suffering, not by a long way. It struck too many chords in the darker moments of his own past to ignore it. He had pretended not to care, of course, but perhaps he was pretending too well.

Or perhaps he was simply lazy. Had he truly become one of those pathetic creatures who allows something they hate with whatever passion they have left to claim to continue, simply because to stop it might cause them some inconvenience? It would seem to be so. But no more. Reluctantly, he acknowledged that Elena had the right of it. He should have co-operated with her colleagues. So he would return to them and give them what he knew they would take down this disgusting trafficking ring and then he would be free of them.

Sighing, he cleared the mess of broken glass with a wave of his hand and left his room. He stopped by the kitchens to collect a tray of some of the slop they insisted was food and returned to Elena’s room. She shrank back when he entered, and as far as he could tell from her expression, the fear was largely un-faked. He supposed the last time she had seen him, he had been in a towering rage – evidenced by the blooming bruises where his hands had dug into her skin during his earlier visit. He put the tray within her reach on the bed and stayed by the door, consciously relaxing his muscles to appear unthreatening – the closest he would approach to an apology.

“I have spent a long time alone. I am unused to considering others. I will contact them.” He said, and she nodded, picking up a bread roll and taking a bite.

He waited in silence whilst she ate, eventually moving only to seat himself on the bed.

“How old are you?” She asked suddenly, without preamble.

Loki sighed, and dropped his head into his hands. He had allowed his anger to burn through his usual caution and revealed something of himself to this woman.

“I know not.” He admitted.

“I’m sure you can give me a ballpark figure.” She pushed, and Loki snarled in frustration.

“OK. So why did you lie and say these rooms were soundproof? The walls are practically paper-thin, but I assume based on the fact that I am alive that we still weren’t overheard. Why?”

Loki cursed again. By rights he should have left some form of soundproofing magic around this room – it was unlikely the dull men at the facility would have noticed, but of course Elena’s sharp mind would have immediately noticed the disparity between his words and what she could hear.

“You will have to assume it was simply good fortune on your part.” He deflected, annoyance growing again. Within a mere half hour, this woman had torn down the walls that protected his heart from the darkness of the hell-hole he found himself in. She knew more truth of him than any other being on the planet, and she continued to prod at him for more information.

Her cynical snort told him what she made of his suggestion and he stood to leave before she could needle him further. He had barely closed the door when he saw Kane striding towards him, two burly henchmen pulling an alarmingly familiar figure along with them.

“Frost.” Kane bit out. “What the fuck is this guy doing alive?”

“Such eloquence. I know not. I assure you there was no hint of a pulse the last time I encountered him. Have you considered the zombie apocalypse might finally have begin? Was it wise to bring one into your stronghold? Zombie film history would suggest that to be poor tactics.” He spoke lightly and in jest, but his mind was whirring, searching desperately for an out.

“Cut the crap Frost. You were working with this idiot?”

Well. Of all the possible insults.

“Of course not. I simply didn’t work against him.”

Apparently this was enough for Kane. His hand raised to point a gun directly at Loki’s face, and he pulled the trigger. No chance of talking his way out, then. Ah well, Loki had handled worse odds before. He twisted to one side and immediately swept Kane’s legs from under him. He grabbed Kane’s head as he fell and twisted. The man was dead before his body hit the ground. Two throwing knives made short work of the henchmen, and Loki bent swiftly to pull them back out of their throats, and press them into the either side of the base of Sterling’s neck.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” He snarled. He felt the tendons of Sterling’s neck tighten with the effort not to move his neck and meet one of the cruelly sharp knives.

“We need that information before we can take this place down. You weren’t giving it so I came to find it myself.”

“You fools.” Loki seethed. “I knew you were useless, but I thought at least Coulson to be in possession of a few more brain cells.” The man’s gaze flickered slightly, and Loki pushed the knives inwards, increasing the pressure until two lines of red appeared on the man’s skin.

“Or does your master not know you are here?” He crooned, relishing the shuddering swallow as the man fought to remain impassive without the slightest hint of success. “Oh he does not. How fun. So what you are telling me is that you could die in here, and he would have not the slightest inkling of your killer’s identity? You see, my dear Sterling, I have quite the mind to do so. You have really rather blown my cover.” The man shivered, and Loki rolled his eyes. He did not dig the knives in as part of him desired, instead shifting his hands to choke the man into unconsciousness. He pulled the door to Elena’s room open again and carried the unconscious body in. He dumped it on the floor, then pulled out the key to release Elena from her restraints. Lifting Sterling’s body with one hand he re-closed the cuff around his wrist and left him on the bed. The man slumped against the filthy covers in a boneless heap, face resting by a stain Loki did not like to picture the origin of.

Elena was already stood, rubbing her wrist vigorously to return the blood flow. “What happened?” She asked, all pretence dropped. Even dressed as she was in a shirt so ripped she might as well not be wearing it, and a skirt which revealed more than it hid, she now looked dangerous. Loki ran his gaze down her lithe body, his intention not lecherous but assessing. She tightened like a bow string, and Loki knew she was debating their relative positions, and her best means of overcoming him.

“It would appear we are now allies.” He pre-empted any aggression on her part. “This man is not worth the skin he wears and has blown my cover. Kane and two of his men are dead. I will likely now have to dispose of the remainder to ensure this does not get out of hand. If the other bases know the source of the demise of this one, they shall become nigh impenetrable.”

“Allies.” The one word held an ocean of subtext.

“Yes. Now, you are not well dressed for fighting. Might I suggest your efforts for the time being would better go towards getting the ladies out than joining me in combat?” He tossed her his set of keys and she caught them deftly.

“I can handle myself.” She protested.

“No doubt. But I am not sure a bra provides much protection against bullets.”

She nodded reluctantly. “What about Sterling?”

“Do as you will with him. I will not be carrying the imbecile out, though I fully intend to torch this place once we are free of it.”

Rolling her eyes, Elena leaned over and unfastened the cuff, but made no move to heft the man out of the room.

“He can get himself out. He should wake up soon.”

“Very well. Now, gather the women and follow the path I take out. I will ensure it is clear.”

Elena nodded, and hastened from the room. Loki summoned a set of fighting knives and grinned to himself. It had been a while since he had a chance to fully exercise his combat skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeah, I couldn't resist getting in that canon insult!


	9. Backs, and how to stab them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the slow updates!  
> I am a trainee teacher, and currently putting together my portfolio for my qualification whilst dealing with my class. Suffice it to say it's pretty hectic! Less than 6 weeks until summer hols though, when HOPEFULLY I'll have a bit more time to write! 
> 
> The start of this chapter contains mentions of graphic violence - If that's not for you, don't read the first few paragraphs, up to the # sign! Also a fair few mentions of blood in this chapter, just as a warning.

To an observer, it might have seemed that death himself whirled through the corridors with a smile on his face and knives glinting in his hands. Loki’s mind was entirely engaged in his work, ensuring not a soul was left alive to raise the alarm across the other bases for the sex ring he was now working to destroy. Grim satisfaction filled him each time he sent a knife slicing decisively into a jugular, or gripped the blade in his fist to drive it into his foe. Behind him, he could hear the screams of the former prisoners as they came across each gruesome body he had left in his wake. Ahead were the shouts of the men and the pop of bullets as they sought to ward off their assailant. To no avail though, as Loki raised a shield that effectively neutralised any projectiles sent his way. He kept a mental tally as he cut through their ranks, knowing he could not allow any to escape and warn other branches of the group that danger approached.

He encountered the gossiping guard from the gate in the bathroom – the man was huddled inside a locked cubicle as though the flimsy chipboard door would somehow protect him. He snivelled as Loki stepped through the shattered remains of the door, pushing himself back against the toilet. Crowding in close, Loki rested a hand lightly on the man’s sternum to hold him down, tiptoe-ing the fingers of his other hand up to dip into the guard’s breast pocket and retrieve his stash of cigarettes. High quality tobacco made an excellent bribe, and there was no sense in wasting it by soaking it in blood. The guard’s eyes rolled back into his head and he fainted from the terror Loki had wilfully cultivated. Pleased that he still had it in him to be so fearful with so little effort, Loki straightened and left the cubicle, dashing the disgusting guard’s head against the cracked cistern as he went, red splashes dark against the white porcelain.

The last man fell to a blade in the back of his skull. Stopping still, Loki reached out with his senses to scan the base for life. Sterling had obviously either died or made it out, and Elena appeared to have done a good job getting all the prisoners out, as there were none left that he could detect. For his own part, Loki had left nothing inside but bodies.

**#**

He pushed open the door and emerged from the main building. Apparently there was still some measure of hysteria amongst the escapees, as he could hear screams echoing across the small courtyard. They were coming from outside the main gate, so he headed in that direction. Men and women alike skittered away from him as he approached – he supposed many of them would recognise him as one of their captors.

One though, was looking at him carefully. Noticing the eyes on him, Loki turned to stare back. It was that woman. The one woman he had been personally responsible for bringing back to the warehouse. Loki held her gaze and straightened his shoulders. Internally, he warred as to whether he should allow any of his regret for the role he played in her misery to show on his face. Ultimately, his expression remained entirely blank, but he spread his arms out in what hopefully amounted to a non-threatening gesture – difficult to achieve with freshly spilt blood still coating his palms. She must have seen something of his internal debate in his eyes though, for her own expression showed something that was not exactly forgiveness, but might amount to acceptance. She nodded at him sharply, and he returned the gesture before she turned away and disappeared into the throng.

At some point during the exchange, Elena materialised nearby, watching them with interested eyes. Loki ignored her as she came to stand beside him.

“Who was she?” Elena asked, clearly not giving up so easily on the glimpse into Loki’s mind and possible motivations.

“The only woman whose incarceration here can be laid directly at my feet.” Loki replied, feeling suddenly too tired not to answer honestly. “The day I brought her back here was the day you found me at the bar. I had planned to drink until I could no longer recall her face, before your arrival forced me to reconsider.”

He thought he detected a hint of surprise in Elena’s expression, and he could not decide whether he was insulted or not. On the one hand, surely she could not believe him so utterly cruel as to have no regrets about contributing to a woman’s misery, no need to drown the rising guilt at the bottom of a bottle. Then, on the other hand was that not exactly the impression he had carefully sought to give her?

Irritated that he was now revealing a part of himself that usually remained hidden, Loki fought down the urge to do something destructive – then remembered that he did not have to: Renewed screams rose from the men and women Elena had escorted out as explosions began to sound across the base. Flames licked the sky and grew rapidly until the air around them was hot with the inferno and heavy with smoke. Loki and Elena were now the only two still stood inside the gates of the compound.

He refused steadfastly to look back at the flames rising into the night, not wanting to risk being reminded of another pillar of smoke he had once seen: One that towered into the blue sky of his happy life, and tore the sun from the heavens.

Nonetheless, the thoughts rose unbidden. What would Leif think now? Loki rarely allowed himself to remember his Father. Memories of Leif were now intrinsically linked with Lord Merton’s words – his promise that Leif would still love him, regardless how stained his soul had become.

Leif would be glad that Loki had released the bed-slaves, though disapproving of the wholesale slaughter methods Loki had used to achieve the escape. Merton would consider it proof of Loki’s capacity for good and evil alike. If only he could aim his actions in only the one direction. The world was not so kind as that. Loki knew he would never truly escape the underworld. He could not have a normal life. Normal lives only passed him by as he remained eternal. He had seen too much change in his long life to assign a sense of permanency to any other being.

He scolded himself now for that faint hope he had allowed himself that Elena might be like him. A foolish attempt to find someone who he might actually be allowed to keep. Not that Elena would be a suitable companion in that sense, anyway. The two of them were both too slippery, too callous for a long partnership to function. One or both of them would be dead within a year or two, no question.

Elena’s presence by his side appeared to have marked him as non-hostile to the escapees. They were no longer actively moving away from him, but had grouped together just outside the gates. Some had run immediately for the open countryside as soon as they made the exit, but the majority had chosen to remain, apparently hopeful of rescue by the authorities. To Loki’s relief, their instinct to throng around and thank their rescuers seemed to be overwhelmed by their fear of him. Likely as a result of the blood – little of it his – that still liberally coated his body, soaking into the expensive material of his shirt and blazer.

Loki now made no effort to look reassuring, hoping they would continue to avoid him. Instead, he pulled his phone from an inner pocket and wiped it clean of blood, offering it to Elena. “Give that to one of the rabble so they can call the police.” He suggested.

“Why don’t you do it?” Elena challenged in return.

“I get the impression they are somewhat intimidated by me,” Loki smirked, not bothering to keep the smugness out of his tone. “Much as I enjoy ordering you around my dear, I do in this case have a most noble reason for it.”

“Save it, Frost.” Elena scowled, snatching the phone from his hand. She approached a group who appeared a little less hysterical than others and proffered the phone to them. They took it with a tearful apology and Elena made her retreat, still scowling.

“I don’t like sobbing victims any more than you do Frost,” She complained.

“By all rights, if you were still undercover you would be amongst them. I rather wish there was some excuse to compel you to do so, it would be extremely amusing to see.” Loki teased.

In all the confusion, it was not so surprising that one man was overlooked.

Moreno, Loki suddenly realised, was not accounted for. Loki had spent so long mentally training himself to ignore the irritating man, he had continued to do so when it finally mattered.

He cursed colourfully and shared the news with Elena, who looked annoyed, but amused.

“We’ll find him.” She promised darkly, and Loki remembered suddenly that Moreno was one of the men who had forced themselves on her – Loki had thwarted one attempt, but there may well have been others whilst he was not present.

“Yes we will.” He agreed. “You have my word.”

“Not disappearing then?” Elena asked, glancing up at him with a carefully neutral expression.

“No, not yet.” Loki promised. “I have a score to settle. I loathe Moreno.”

In the distance, the sound of helicopter rotors became audible over the roar of the flames, and lights flashed as several police vans turned the corner, trundling down the narrow road towards the blaze.

“It would appear your friends have finally decided to make an appearance,” Loki commented, as though on the weather. Meanwhile, the escaped prisoners were crowding around the police cars, all clamouring to be taken away first.

“No. This is just the cops.” Elena’s tone was dismissive, and confirmed Loki’s long held idea that she was not the usual federal agent. “It might be best if we disappeared now. I don’t particularly want to give a statement to these guys.”

Loki hummed in agreement, and took Elena by the wrist, pulling her back towards the compound. The heat of the raging inferno was uncomfortable on their skin but they skirted the edge of the buildings to remain out of sight of police searchers. The dancing flames confused their silhouettes so they could slip around the warehouse and over the back fence. Heading in the opposite direction to where the police had come, they struck out across a wide field, keeping to the border where possible in an attempt to disguise their path. By unspoken agreement they walked for nearly 2 hours through the night, skirting a few small villages until finally they came to a dirt track where no sign of civilisation could be seen for miles around. It was here that Elena finally held out her hand for Loki’s communicator, breaking it open along with her own to allow her supervisors to find them.

They passed another hour crouched in the ditch by the road, watchful for any sign of pursuit, or of an innocent passer-by they would need to avoid. None came.

Loki almost wished they would, he was so bored. Elena now seemed uninterested in conversation. Having confirmed that Loki did not intend to absent himself for the time being, she was presumably waiting to hear from her superiors before risking any further discussion. Rapidly, Loki grew restless. He created delicate designs out of grass and weeds and threw them at Elena. When she didn’t respond he instead decided to repurpose his creations into a long, intricately woven serpent, cursing when at the last minute he remembered he could not use his magic to animate it, since he had not seen fit to reveal it to the spy beside him – nor would he if at all possible. The snake was pulled ruthlessly to pieces.

Finally, when Elena continued to show no interest in conversation he was debating suggesting interactions of a more physical variety, just to pass the time. Oh, he knew her response would be negative, but he was hoping to get at least a little anger out of her, some argument or accusation to fill the silence.

His plan was foiled by the thrum of a car engine. The headlights flashed an irregular pattern Loki assumed was some sort of cipher, as Elena stood smoothly and stepped out into the road where the car could see her. Not to be outdone, Loki also pulled himself up and stood beside her, back straight in anticipation of another meeting with the mysterious Agent Coulson.

The car drew nearer, and began to slow down. The back of Loki’s neck prickled but he resisted turning around, preferring to keep his eyes fixed on Elena in case she tried anything untoward now her friends could back her up. This turned out to be a poor decision. A soft hiss of parting air was the only warning Loki had before something sharp struck him in the back of the neck, just below his hairline. Reaching back with a loud curse he pulled out a dart and peered at it with narrowed eyes. He looked back up at Elena, who seemed unaffected by his furious glare.

“Treachery.” He hissed, hurling the dart to the floor. One of her comrades must have snuck around to a shooting position before the car reached them. He could feel the tranquillising fluid creeping through his system, slowing his reactions but not enough to knock him out. This was remedied when a second dart thudded into his shoulder. The second dose had him swaying, but still lucid as Elena eyed him warily.

“Sorry.” She apologised, not sounding sorry at all. “But you’re an unknown quantity. We decided to remove the risk factor.” Loki snarled, lurching towards her in anger as she threw his own words from earlier in the week back at him. Side-stepping him neatly, Elena raised her hand, 3 fingers pointing up to the sky. Another stinging blow, another needle this time right over his spine, and Loki crumpled. 

“We’ll speak when you’re awake, Mr Frost.” Agent Coulson promised, appearing from within the car, though to Loki’s drug-addled mind he seemed to spring from nowhere. With the last strength he possessed as his vision swam and faded to nothing, Loki twisted his fingers into fists, leaving only the middle fingers straight in a final salute before his arms fell slack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The snake Loki made's name was Jörmungandr.


	10. How to Irritate Your Mercenary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I am VERY SORRY.  
> Final reviews for my teaching qualification were coupled with absolutely insane children in my class, a week long conference and a family holiday. Then, when I was finally happy enough with the chapter to post it, I moved to a new flat, and have since been without internet for 2 weeks. It's back on tomorrow, but in the meantime this is posted from your friendly neighbourhood coffee-shop!  
> As an extra 'sorry' I have also posted an extra one-shot story about the 'kidnapping' that is mentioned in this chapter, titled 'A Day Out with Mr Jack.'

He awoke in a dull, grey room. A monitor beeped when the spike in brain activity registered and Loki knew he had mere seconds to gather his wits. He was strapped down – almost to the point of ridiculousness. There were multiple bands of some stiff fabric secured around every limb, a few stretching across his torso, and even a strap across his forehead to hold his head in place. Clearly Elena had given a thorough report on Loki’s destructive capabilities. What she knew of them, anyway. Testing the restraints subtly, Loki ascertained that their tensile strength was in fact well within the threshold he was capable of tearing through. However, as the door slid open with a hiss Loki decided that he would play at being trapped for now. The organisation continuing to underestimate him could only be a good thing.

“Good afternoon, Mr Frost.” Loki could not move his head to look, but the cool uninflected tone identified the speaker as Agent Coulson.

“Agent Coulson,” he spat. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you again, but for one thing I can’t see you, and for another, I’d be lying.”

“Hmm yes, well I’d apologise, but frankly we thought it wise not to underestimate you. I thought you liked that about us?”

“What is it with you fucking agents and throwing my own words back at me?” Loki fumed. “Use some goddamn creativity and come up with your own.”

“They say imitation is the highest form of flattery.” Still no audible giveaway from the agent. And he still hadn’t moved into Loki’s field of vision, meaning Loki could not read his face.

“If you seek to flatter me then I can assure you, you are going about it the wrong way.” Loki twisted his face lewdly. “I far prefer to be the restrainer, than the restrained.”

“Yes, Agent Romanoff did get that impression.” Agent Coulson mused. Finally a giveaway. So blatant as to clearly be intentional, but information nonetheless. The agent he had known as Elena Ortega was in fact a Romanoff. Well, at least it offered an explanation for how easily she had identified his faked accent. And she was under the thumb of this organisation enough to give up all the gory, sexy details in her debrief.

“I mentioned previously Mr Frost that we’ve been following your antics for quite some time. Now I have you here without time constraint, I would rather like to discuss that a little further with you. Get to know you, if you will.”

“Why, Agent Coulson, is this a date?”

“If you like.” The agent offered him a small, sarcastic smile. No disgusted recoil from the suggestion at all. How dull. Loki gave up on winding him up that way.

“Not particularly. You’re not my type.”

“Mr Frost,” Coulson finally moved to where Loki could see him, moving a chair to sit down in and powering up a futuristic-looking tablet. “You’ve been active in the mercenary scene for, so far as we can tell, the last 15 years or so. We have on file a huge number of cases you are suspected of involvement in – political and personal assassinations and… seductions?” Loki sniggered internally, and perhaps a little out loud as well. Technically the brief had been another assassination, but the seduction (and resulting lawsuit between the woman and her husband) had been so much more rewarding. Coulson continued without any sign of noticing Loki’s amusement. “Bank robbery, jewel theft, organised crime, bodyguard to some really quite nasty types, abductions – it’s quite a rap-sheet.” He paused and looked up, a note of amusement in his expression. “You know Sheikh Eisa’s daughter still regularly asks when she can go play at ‘Mr Jack’s’ house again?”

Loki carefully kept his face blank, betraying not a note of recognition. She had been a sweet girl, little Jaydra. Loki liked children. He had dim memories of being a child himself, but they seemed a little closer when there was a young, innocent one chattering away with him. He was glad her ‘kidnapping’ had not been too traumatic for her. Especially given how it had ended.

“You also, as the Sheikh’s case demonstrates, seem to have a tendency to double-cross your employers. Quite a turn up, when that package turned up with the ransomer’s ears instead of the promised little girl’s.”

As though Loki would have let them permanently mutilate an innocent child for something so petty as money. Jaydra had mysteriously reappeared back in her own bedroom the very next morning.

“You know, they never did find the rest of the bodies, aside from the ears.” Coulson’s comment was utterly casual, but still clearly fishing.

“That’s a shame. I imagine the Sheikh would sleep easier at night if he knew the threat had been terminated more permanently.”

“I imagine so.” Coulson held his eyes for a moment, and Loki started to get annoyed.

“Agent Coulson, we both know what you are trying to do. Surely you have realised by now that I am unlikely to give away anything that could be used as proof enough to detain me?”

“It seems not. I am curious though, why would people continue to hire a mercenary with so well known as a double-crosser?”

“Hypothetically, because that mercenary is also known for getting shit done.” Loki raised an eyebrow. “Jack Frost is the best, Agent Coulson. Wouldn’t you want to hire the best?”

“Who says we’re interested in hiring you?”

“Well, based on the condition I woke up in – unless I have been held unconscious for longer than your damn tranquillisers would account for – you have not yet attempted to kill me. If you wish to torture me for information, I think Miss Or- my apologies, Agent Romanoff will have deduced by now that you will not succeed. What else can I assume but that you wish to offer me a role in your plans?”

“Are you offering your help?”

“Perhaps. Tell me of your plans and I will decide if I wish to be part of them. I will not be interested in anything that reeks of incompetence. And if Sterling” Loki spat the name like a curse, “is involved you may as well release me now, for no persuasion you could concoct will convince me to work with such a cretin.”

“Sterling is on probation as a result of his previous unauthorised actions.”

“There’s one point in your favour.”

“I’m sure you’ll understand my reluctance to tell you any further details. We have no assurance at all that you will not simply pass the information on to the highest bidder – likely the very organisation we are now trying to take down.”

“Agent Coulson. You have demonstrated that you know what may or may not be my history, so you are no doubt aware I have a rather uneasy relationship with morality, when I acknowledge its existence at all.”

Coulson nodded. There was no judgement in his face, only acceptance of the fact.

“I claimed before that the sole reason for my assistance was to amuse myself. I imagine you are now also aware through Agent Romanoff’s inevitable report that this was false – the buying and selling of unwilling bed-slaves is utterly abhorrent, even to one with a conscience so stained as mine. I wish it finished, so until then you will have my aid.”

“Agent Romanoff also believed that you might have some personal experience in the area?”

Loki stiffened. Of course – he had hinted at such a past in his fit of guilty fury. It was far too much to hope for that Romanoff might have missed such a thing.

“That is not up for discussion.”

“With respect, Mr Frost…”

“No.”

“It would be beneficial to have further confirmation of your motives.” Coulson tried again.

Loki did not speak.

“If you refuse to respond I will take that as a probable confirmation, Mr Frost.”

“Do as you will,” Loki growled. He could not deny the matter – it would be too obvious a lie after his previous emotional reaction. However, to categorically admit to… that… was also out of the question, his pride simply would not allow it. His first instinct was to hurl vitriol at the Agent, find his weak spots and prod at them mercilessly, make Coulson angry enough himself to give up on the topic. He could not bring himself to do it though – to grow too defensive would only identify a weak spot of his own, and give the agents more ammunition to use against him.

Instead, he closed himself off, stared unseeingly into the silence that expanded out to fill the space. One heartbeat stretched out to become several. Finally, Coulson gave in and changed the subject.

“Where do you think Moreno went?” Now the man had given up his attempt at a (he shuddered minutely) psychological evaluation, Loki would deign to respond. Perhaps not as the agent might wish, though.

“Why is an organisation such as yours so interested? If I am to involve myself in this, does it not behove me to know for whom I am working?”

“No.” Came the flat retort. “I have mentioned, Mr Frost that you are a known double-crosser. The less you know of our organisation, the better so far as we are concerned.”

“Hmm, wise, I suppose. And if I refuse to participate without full disclosure?”

Coulson’s glare turned steely. “You may notice, Mr Frost that you are currently in a rather restrained situation. Positioned about an inch behind your neck is a needle containing a large dose of the very same tranquilliser you have already been exposed to – strengthened this time, to account for your… unusual physiology, shall we say? If you become uncooperative before we have secured your participation, you will be injected with that tranquiliser which will take you down for easily long enough to secure a drip to keep you under. You will then stay here, unconscious, until our operation is complete, after which you will be released to a well-removed location and allowed to go on your way.

“And then there’s the fact that, based on what you’ve just told me about your motives, and what we can extrapolate from your silence about your own past, I imagine you’re quite ready to participate anyway.”

Loki was bored of playing with Coulson now – the damn man didn’t react enough. Dull, dull, dull. He conceded the point with ill grace, and gave a proper answer to the Agent’s previous question.

“From what I saw in my investigation of their papers the nearest base is in Ohio. There is also a compound to the North of Port Clarence Bay in Alaska, but it is one of the more important bases, secret enough that I am uncertain Moreno would know about it. He will likely go first to Ohio where we should seek to interrupt him, then someone will move on to Alaska to warn them of possible approaching danger.”

Coulson’s face twitched minutely at the mention of the Alaskan base – apparently that was of greater interest than the Ohio base.

“That matches with all the other intelligence we have. Good. I will brief you in more detail before we deploy, but as a quick overview, we will aim to infiltrate the Ohio base then, and after that strike at Alaska with all operatives we can safely commit.”

“That will not take down the international link the Port Clarence Bay no doubt furnishes.” Loki pointed out.

“No, but it will at least prevent the export of victims by that route.” Coulson countered. “Ohio first though.”

“Why do we seek to infiltrate, not just take out both bases by force?” Loki asked, curious. If the aim was simply to take down the American sector of the ring, not a worldwide multi-national effort to infiltrate and cut off every branch and offshoot, what was the point in so much espionage?

“We want to avoid collateral damage where possible. An outright attack would cause a number of civilian casualties.”

A clear lie. Loki knew it, and Coulson knew Loki knew it. If collateral was the concern, why would they be willing to strike forcibly at Alaska? In that moment, an unspoken agreement passed between them. Loki would pretend to swallow the lie – for now – and Coulson would include Loki in the rest of his plans.

Obviously Loki had no intention of staying in the dark for long, but needs must and for the time being he was keen to get out of his restraints – his nose itched. He nodded minutely and Coulson continued to explain his role.

About ten minutes of enforced listening later, the door to Loki’s cell opened again, and a familiar figure strode through the door. She now looked more like she had when they first met in the bar, with pale skin and gently curling dark red hair. Loki assumed that, since she was now returning to it after removing her disguise, this was her natural colouring. The extra weight she had put on for her role was still there, barely evident in her figure now – no longer playing the victim she stood straight and strong. Suddenly, Loki understood exactly how lethal this woman was capable of being. The dramatic entrance and power stance practically screamed ‘rehearsed,’ though – she may not be playing victim any more, but she was undeniably still playing a role. Loki mentally confirmed his previous assessment that this woman was fairly new to her position in the organisation. Still posturing for the sake of others eyes, and for her own confidence. And such posturing just cried out to be mocked.

“Elena!” He cried, injecting relief into his tones, “You have to help me! This strange man has kidnapped me and tied me to a bed.”

“Frost.” Her tone was clipped. Too late, Loki recalled how closely his mockingly described situation echoed her own unpleasant experiences of late.

Still, Loki was not a cautious man. He lived to poke the dragons and see if they bit. So, he ignored her irritation and lowered his voice to a stage whisper, as though confiding. “I think he fancies me.”

No response beyond a stony glare. Loki cursed to all under the sun that he had found himself trapped with such an unreceptive audience to his jibes.

“Fine.” He grunted. “Agent Romanoff, is it not? Congratulations. Take it from an expert in double-crossing that your own attempt was superbly executed. Gold star.”

“It was necessary.”

“Necessary like a tasteful spanking session, or necessary like three tranquilliser darts?” Loki teased, perhaps not so gently. Finally a reaction! Romanoff reddened and Coulson took that cue to return the conversation to their mission.

Or try to, anyway.

“Got yourselves a nice little newbie there,” Loki commented to him casually, cutting the man off before he could get a word out. “Bit wet around the ears, look at those pretty red cheeks. But give her a few years and oh my, won’t she be fabulous.”

“Agent Romanoff is here as another member of the infiltration team for the Ohio base.” Coulson commented blandly, ignoring Loki’s comments.

“That’s nice dear.” Loki replied just as casually, “Now, when are you going to let me off this damn gurney? I’ve never really gone for the medical fetish, and this really isn’t as comfortable as it looks.”

“The restraints stay for now. We need to be sure you’re listening, and this is as good a way as any.”

“For fucks sake. I am just as capable of listening when not restrained.” Loki bit out.

“Yes, I know.” That damn sarcastic smile was back. Loki decided at that moment that Coulson was going to lose that smile very soon. Yes, it would tip the man off to his strength, but at this point Loki was annoyed enough that he considered it worth it.

He put up with another thirty-fucking-eight minutes of chatter, Coulson explaining in excruciating detail exactly what the mission parameters were, exactly what Loki’s responsibilities and limits were, and exactly what his organisation would do if those limits were overstepped. Loki wasn’t particularly alarmed, given that most of the threatened consequences seemed to sum up to ‘be extremely cross.’ They hadn’t exactly had much success at stopping or catching him yet.

Then again, they had never had much reason to before, so perhaps it was best not to tempt fate. Outliving everyone he ever knew was not exactly good for stopping the build-up of hubris, so Loki had to monitor it himself.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to be a little shit about _still_ being strapped to a bench, though. His barbed comments, whilst never quite degenerating into open verbal warfare grew increasingly pointed as Coulson wittered on. Romanoff occasionally slipped in a word or two to clarify or back up something Coulson said, but so far as Loki could tell her main function was just to stand there and look pretty… and a little bit dangerous.

Finally, Coulson was done. He didn’t give any orders, but his lips quirked up again as the door opened and a stream of agents filed in.

“I suggest you make no sudden movements, Mr Frost.” He commented as a female agent stepped forward to begin unstrapping Loki’s head, three other’s lined up with guns at the ready, just in case.

Loki returned the slight smile. “Does this count as sudden?” He asked, then pulled himself free of the remaining straps, ripping through them like they were so much wet paper – well, in truth it was a little more difficult than that, but he managed not to let the strain show in his face. “Perhaps you are not done underestimating me just yet, Agent Coulson.” Loki stretched his muscles dramatically, and his lips twitched into a full smirk as Coulson finally appeared somewhat startled.

“You are aware that you playing around with us like this does not exactly inspire trust?” Coulson asked, the barest hint of irritation in his tone.

“Agent. Why ever would I want you to trust me?” Loki chuckled richly. “Besides, it’s funny.”

Coulson just stared at him blankly, then turned and left the room. Romanoff followed closely behind him with a roll of her eyes. Finally, Loki’s little security detail shuffled their way out, taking the gurney and its accompanying tranquilliser dose with them.

Once the room was clear, Coulson re-entered with a hefty file.

“Some light reading for you.” He smiled his inscrutable smile. “Details of the cover identity we have arranged for you and Agent Romanoff. But before I leave you in peace, Mr Frost,” he added tetchily, “I must ask: What exactly is the origin of your abilities? You’ve shown that you have a higher than usual strength and metabolism, you’re unusually fast and have apparently lived longer than an average human. What do you have to thank for that?”

“What do you think it might be, dear Agent?” Loki asked with a coy tilt of his head. “Mutation? Human experiment? Demon? Angel? Perhaps I’m even an alien?”

“Any and all of the above.”

“Then I shall allow you to continue with your speculation.” Loki refused to be drawn out any further on the subject – something that was very easy to do, given that he had no answer to give, even if he’d wanted to.


	11. Loki and SHIELD do not get on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long gap (though not as long as last time!)   
> The school year has started again. I adore my new class though, so it's not so bad :)

Loki was in a box. Loki was in a box made of reinforced steel, cursing himself for his own damn attitude, and the scrapes it got him into. In their continuing campaign to not underestimate him, Agents Coulson and Romanoff had decided the best way to transport him to their Ohio base was to seal him in a box and fly him by helicopter so he could neither see the route they took nor map it out by the turns of a road-vehicle. Of course, he also couldn’t escape, which was a bit of a pain.

Not that he would admit it to them, but the steel box also had the effect of dramatically increasing his respect for the stern agents. The manner he had been herded into the box had been a wonderful display of ruthlessness that Loki could well appreciate. He had walked under his own power to the roof of the facility where the box had been presented to him. He had then been surrounded by gun-toting soldiers, and offered the choice to step into the box himself and be allowed the luxuries of a book along with details of his cover identity, snacks and a torch to read by; or to be tranquillised and tossed into the box anyway. Despite the temptation to be difficult Loki vastly preferred the former option, so had folded his long limbs gracefully to sit on the floor of the box whilst bolts were driven into the frame to hold the door in place.

Loki was now very bored. He had long since finished the book he was provided with, and demolished the meagre snacks. He considered cannibalising the torch to produce some sort of weapon to annoy Agent Coulson with when he was let out, but realised that to do so would deprive him of a (non-magical) light by which to construct his weapon, making it a pretty impractical idea. Instead, he used the shredded pages of the book, his shoelaces and a tiny shot of magic to create a contraption which would hopefully hit someone in the face when the door to his box was finally opened.

Just in time, his creation was finished as he felt the helicopter finally start to descend. His cage landed on some sort of metal surface with a clang, and he heard the helicopter sail off into the distance. To his incredible annoyance, he still wasn’t released, but was instead loaded onto the back of something – and tilted on his side, of all the shitty things to do to a living cargo – to be driven somewhere else. Probably underground, shadowy, and a tad over-dramatic, he thought with a mental roll of his eyes.

Finally, he was unloaded, put back upright, and the bolts holding his box closed were unscrewed. The door was pulled away and some poor unsuspecting construction worker received a spring-loaded paper ball to the nose.

Loki laughed himself silly as the weaponised agents around the box jumped to attention, moving into battle formations, obviously expecting him to come out all guns blazing. He picked up a spare piece of paper and waved it like a white flag.

“I do apologise for frightening you, my dear uneasy allies. It was a long boring flight and mischief beckoned.”

Coulson now stepped out of the shadows – the area he was being received in was just as over-dramatic as Loki had predicted – and picked up the balled paper.

“I liked that book.” Was his only comment on the matter, “now, I trust you are familiar with your cover story.”

“I am.”

“Good. Now, we will need to change your appearance so you’re not recognisable as a man who may or may not be an international mercenary.” Loki snorted slightly but Coulson continued with no sign he had noticed. “We’ll make a start on that tomorrow. For now, let me show you where you’ll be staying.”

On the short walk, Loki quickly decided he would not bother revealing the fact that he could change his own appearance without any difficulty whatsoever. Coulson was already curious about his origins, and at the moment his talents could be explained away as some sort of mutation, but if he were to start displaying too many distinct abilities they might begin to seriously suspect he was something even rarer than a mutant.

The room Loki was shown to was a dull shell of reinforced steel, the only attempt at making it welcoming a small pile of books and some cushions arranged in one corner next to the narrow bed. In the exact centre of the room was a small raised circle just the right diameter for one person to stand on.

“Your bathroom is just through there,” Coulson indicated an alcove in the corner. “The door to your room will not be unlocked unless you are stood empty-handed on this pressure pad. Kindly move to stand there either when you want to leave the room, or when an agent comes to collect you. When it’s you who’s wanting out you may have to wait a little while until an agent is available to escort you. I’m sure you can understand why we’re not overly keen on allowing you out unaccompanied.”

The contraption was clearly something more technical than just a pressure pad, but Loki didn’t bother pointing that out or asking what its true function was. From what he had observed of Agent Coulson so far, the man was ruthlessly controlled in his speech. Any information he intended to share was shared, and anything he left unsaid was information he had no intention of telling you. Either way it appeared he had little choice but to go along with the situation for the time being.

"Very well." He nodded, stepping towards the books and examining the spines in what he hoped would serve as a dismissal.

Coulson clearly noticed, as he moved towards the door. He paused in the doorway and stepped back.

"Mr Frost, I will remind you that those books are for  _reading_ purposes only. Please try not to create any more weapons."

The door closed before Loki could respond. He huffed, glared at where he suspected the cameras were and slowly, deliberately ripped a page out of the first book on the pile. 

The lights shut off. Loki cursed loud and long.

Once his irritation was vented he felt his way to the bed, cast a silent spell to warn him of any dangers and fell asleep.

* * *

Funnily enough, Loki did not prove popular with the agents assigned to changing his appearance. The first issue came when they wanted to dye his hair black. Loki was reluctant to accept a change that would take his appearance closer to his true colouring. He was not ready to look so much like himself again yet.

“No.”

“Mr Frost, your colouring is very distinctive. The further we can get from your natural colour the less likely you are to be recognised.”

“Frankly, I do not give a flying purple fuck. Pick another colour.”

“Mr Frost…” The agent spoke with a long suffering tone, trying to be the ‘voice of reason’ or some such bullshit.

“Dye my hair black, and I will kill you and leave, thus ruining the mission and leaving your organisation short of an agent, albeit an annoying one they may well be glad to be rid of. Alternatively, you could pick another colour. Your decision.”

“Frost, what exactly is wrong with…” Romanoff tried to interrupt from the next chair over where her hair was being dyed a soft brown.

“Romanoff,” Loki snapped before she could finish her question. “We both know I won’t be answering that question so don’t waste your breath.”

“We only have black,” the agent tried to protest.

“Oh for the love of fuck if you’re going to lie at least try to do it properly. I have three different weapons on my person right now, not that I need them to follow through on my threat as I assure you I am quite willing to murder you with my bare hands. Make me ginger for all I care, but is your life really worth giving me black hair?”

“Three weapons?” Romanoff questioned. “We checked and disarmed you twenty minutes ago.”

“Well you obviously did a piss poor job of it then, didn’t you,” Loki growled in return.

Half an hour later, Loki was indeed ginger, and still causing trouble. By this point he was mainly just doing it for fun.

“Coloured contact lenses never stand up to competent scrutiny.” Loki announced, throwing the offered set into a bin across the room. With a sigh, the disguise-attempting agent trudged over to fish them out leaving Romanoff to deal with Loki. “You know I once caught a woman attempting to assassinate an old employer because her shitty fake-blue eyes gave her away.”

“What happened to her?” Romanoff tried. Clearly she and Coulson were still trying to get a confession for something they could pin on him.

“What do you think?” He rolled his eyes.

“Mr Frost,” the agent was back with the contacts. “We are trying to disguise your eyes. I assure you these are state of the art…”

Loki just threw them back into the bin. “So get me a pair of glasses and tint my eyelashes, you moron. It is far subtler. Fuck me backwards it’s like you’ve never done undercover work before in your life.”

“And you have?” Romanoff prompted. Loki didn’t even bother with a non-committal reply this time, just threw her a scathing look.

Their new identities required them to pose as husband and wife. Waiting for Romanoff to arrive, Loki glanced in the mirror and quickly practised his ‘henpecked husband’ look. In theory he would be playing the second to Romanoff’s more active role in negotiations, so he rehearsed a simpering look of affection that he attempted to turn on Romanoff as she entered the room. The look dropped as soon as he saw her face.

“Take the damn lenses out, now.” He demanded.

“Frost, if you refuse to wear them yourself that’s one thing, but you are not in charge of this mission and do not get to tell me what to do.” Romanoff frowned, glancing at her eyes in the mirror Loki had just been using.

“I spotted the damn things from across the room. Also that microphone in your lapel is beyond obvious. Put it in your bra for the love of God! Perhaps I should be in charge of this mission, it would certainly make it more successful, at the rate we are going thus far.”

“Moreno saw me at the warehouse, if we see him again he might…”

“I assure you, Romanoff, the pathetic man has no idea what your eyes look like. As I recall he was far more interested in the more intimate parts of your body.” Loki sneered cruelly, interrupting Romanoff’s attempted reasoning. He almost felt a flash of remorse for his cruel reminder, but forced it down. The damn woman had put herself in that position, so why the hell should he bother to coddle her?

Fortunately, she seemed to agree with him, as aside from a slight narrowing of her eyes she did not react to the harsh words.

“Perhaps,” she agreed annoyingly evenly, “but I would rather be safe than sorry, so the contacts stay.”

Loki conceded defeat with poor grace.

* * *

The sun was just setting between the tall skyscrapers of Columbus city, casting long shadows across the streets when Loki and Agent Romanoff pulled up to the front of a stylish hotel. Loki eased himself out of the driver’s seat and rushed around to open the door for his ‘wife,’ passing the keys off to a valet as he went.

Taking Romanoff’s proffered hand, he allowed her to pull him up the steps and into the hotel. They walked into the dining room with hands still joined. Loki walked just behind Romanoff, gaging his distance carefully. Not so far behind that it appeared she was dragging him unwillingly, but far enough that the power dynamic of their ‘relationship’ was visually established in preparation for their meeting.

A waiter appeared from nowhere and ushered them to a quiet table near the back of the restaurant.

“If we could have an extra chair?” Romanoff asked pleasantly, “We may be expecting a friend to drop by for a few minutes.”

A chair was quickly fetched and placed, and Romanoff turned her attention to their drinks.

“A small glass of red for me, and a large white for my husband.” She ordered without consulting Loki. “And a jug of water with cucumber, not lemon.”

“You know, I generally prefer a nice red,” Loki complained in a low voice he was certain would not be overheard. “If you’d bothered to consult me. And what kind of monster gets cucumber in their water instead of lemon?”

“Shut up, someone will hear you. Besides, ‘Mr Jefferson’ prefers white.” Romanoff shot back. “The drinks order is our agreed on signal so our contact can be sure he’s meeting the right people.”

Loki subsided, but not without a quick prod at the SHEILD need-to-know policy.

“Had I only been informed of the signal I would not have needed to voice complaint and potentially endanger our mission now, would I.”

“Shut up Lucas.”

Their wine arrived, and Loki immediately took a generous gulp, toying with one of his ginger locks absentmindedly.

“This is quite good.” He commented. Given that his backstory called for him to be a wealthy man from poor roots in some backwater town in Alabama, he coloured his American accent with the slightest hint of a southern drawl, as though he were trying to get rid of it, but failing to entirely suppress it. “How’s your wine Katie?”

“Don’t call me that.” Romanoff snapped, “It’s Catherine.”

“Sorry darling.” Loki turned his best simpering affection on her, and was gratified to see her look vaguely uncomfortable at the adoration in his eyes.

Unable to resist stretching his acting skills at her expense, he reached a hand across the table and slid it over her knee, softening his smile a little and leaning closer. She froze almost imperceptibly, then gathered herself and knocked his hand away from her knee.

“Not now Lucas,” she reprimanded him, “we’re here for business, not pleasure.”

“Later though?” Loki pleaded pitifully, winning a subtle roll of her eyes as she reached up to… well, the only word he could think of for it was pet him, fingers sliding around over and behind his ear. Her touch was brief, but to the casual observer portrayed possessive, brusque affection.

“Maybe, if you’re good.” She promised with a slight smile.

Loki leaned into her hand a little to really sell the moment as he noticed a smartly dressed man approaching their table.

“Catherine?” He asked, smiling broadly when she turned. “Oh good it is you, how have you been?”

Romanoff rose to meet him with a smile sliding across her face to match his.

“Mark, so nice to see you!” She gave him a brief hug then sat down, smile still firmly in place. “Sit down, sit down”

Loki, who had frowned like an appropriately jealous husband when they hugged quickly schooled his features into a pleasant, expectant smile.

“This is my husband, Lucas,” Romanoff introduced him. Loki reached a hand across the table.

“Pleasure to meet you.” He said non-committedly. “It’s nice to put a face to the name I’ve heard so much about from Catherine.”

“All good things, I hope.” The man chuckled, and Loki’s smile sharpened a little.

“Well, they certainly sound _intriguing._ ” He replied, voice heavy with suggestion.

Apparently the man wasn’t ready to give up their façade yet, as they continued to make painfully fabricated small talk whilst for a good few minutes whilst the bustle of the restaurant continued around them.

The usual operation of the hotel was not entirely undisturbed though, as Loki noticed several non-employees moving amongst the staff. Colleagues of ‘Mark’s,’ most likely, making sure they would not be overheard or betrayed. Only when some sort of all-clear was finally given did Mark begin to move the conversation on.

After a fashion.

“So, Catherine, I hear you’re in town on business?” He asked. Loki almost cried at all the cloak and dagger.

“Yes,” agreed Romanoff, “We’re looking into acquiring one of your products.”

“I see.” The man nodded. “How long have you been considering buying?”

“Since about a year ago.” Romanoff replied, as though admitting something. “We’d talked about it before, since before we got married, but it wasn’t until recently that we felt ready to make the… investment. Call it a late wedding present to ourselves.”

“Of course. What particular requirements would you have for your product? Colouring and the like.”

“None in particular. We would prefer a woman, but colour is not important to us. Slim, preferably, but not a rake.”

“A figure just like my beautiful wife here would be the dream.” Loki commented, reaching an arm around to pull Romanoff into his side. She elbowed him in the ribs and moved away again with a hiss of ‘later.’

“I do not wish to be indiscreet,” ‘Mark’ interrupted insincerely, “but it sounds like the sort of product you are looking for is one of our premium models. May I ascertain that you can, in fact, afford it?”

This was actually Loki’s part to handle – his pathetic persona was in charge of providing the finances for their relationship. He reached into his inner pocket and fumbled with his wallet before sliding an AMEX Centurion card in the name of Lucas Jefferson across the table. ‘Mark’ looked at it a moment and seemed satisfied that it was real, as he slid it back with a nod. Loki stowed it carefully away.

“Actually,” Romanoff continued, “On the subject of a premium range, I had heard that you might have options for a few extra features on your products?”

Her tone was heavy with suggestion on the words ‘extra features.’ Loki had not a clue what she was talking about, so it was not a difficult leap of logic to realise that this referred to the other side to the mission he was not being allowed to know about.

As if he was ever going to allow something like that to slide without causing problems.

“Though really,” he sniggered, falsified amusement made real by Romanoff tensing beside him, “how many extra features can something like this have? Extra holes or something?”

The combined poison of ‘Mark’ and Romanoff’s stares should by all rights have been enough to kill him.

“Oh sorry, was I being lewd?” Loki enquired innocently.

“I apologise Mark,” Romanoff soothed, “he doesn’t always have the best filter on his thoughts. I hope this won’t affect our professional relationship?”

‘Mark’ made a show of considering, which was ridiculous. No businessman worth his salt would throw away a sale such as they were offering. They all knew it, he just had to pretend so he could use it to drive his prices up. Ridiculous. Finally, his ‘decision’ was made.

“No, not at all.” He smiled winningly.

“I’m so glad.” Romanoff simpered, and Loki forced his expression into polite apology.

“I will contact you again about a second meeting to look over some of your options.” ‘Mark’ offered, then he was gone, strolling out of the restaurant like he was an ordinary businessman, one who hadn’t just opened negotiations on the sale of an actual human life.

His little stunt in the restaurant earned him a frosty welcome back at base, and when he returned to his room after being searched for weapons yet _again_ , all his reading materials had been removed. Instead, Loki withdrew into his own mind trying to fill in the secret at the centre of the entire operation.

He was not at all cross about the fact that he was apparently also to be denied an evening meal like he was some sort of wayward teenager. And if he chose to show that he emphatically was NOT irritated by his treatment by ‘only’ embedding the butter knife stolen from the restaurant (and not found by his incompetent searchers) in the doorframe rather than the entering agent’s cranium, well that was his business.


	12. The Lineup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!  
> However, the good news is this is a long chapter, AND the next chapter is already almost finished. I started chapter twelve, had MASSIVE writer's block issues then suddenly broke the wall and wrote a chapter and a half in a day. Yay.  
> Thank you for all the reviews and kudos I have had so far - they make my day every time!

Loki was given his books back, and even furnished with semi-decent coffee just in time to sweeten him up before the follow-up meeting with the human scum who insisted on being referred to as ‘Mark.’ Those books did not last more than fifteen seconds when Loki returned to the cell following the meeting.

Earlier that day, they had been shown a ‘portfolio’ of women to choose from. ‘Mark’ had given them the option of selecting multiple women and placing them on a shortlist for further consideration. Loki had swallowed down the bile in his throat and feigned eagerly pouring over the photos, exclaiming over the relative merits of the women he was supposedly looking forward to abusing.

“Oh look darling,” he had crooned, “wouldn’t her hair look absolutely gorgeous against my skin. Imagine looking down and seeing that flame red hair bouncing over my cock.”

Oh course, his brain had been conjuring images of an entirely different redhead, as Romanoff well knew. She had scowled at him furiously, colour rising beautifully to her cheeks, but could not properly respond to his insinuations whilst maintaining her cover, so she settled for raising a haughty eyebrow.

“And what makes you think I would allow you the pleasure? Perhaps I intend to keep her all to myself.”

“Even better.” Loki purred. “So long as you let me watch.”

At this point, ‘Mark’ had cleared his throat to call them back to the matter at hand, and within ten minutes they had narrowed the selection of photographs down to only 3 girls. The redhead was not amongst them.

They were then given a folder containing the images of the three women, along with a piece of paper bearing an address, and a time to meet the car that would take them to the ‘shop floor.’ They had been invited to visit the storage space where the ‘products’ were being kept, in order to ‘sample’ the goods in a sort of sick line-up before they chose which one to buy.

Loki frowned. He still didn’t have all the information – Romanoff had taken possession of the file. He _knew_ there was information in that file beyond just the girl’s physical details and images, but Romanoff wasn’t letting him near it. The file had stayed zipped up inside her jacket from the moment it had been pushed across the table towards them.

Loki had simmered in the car that brought them back to the base for thirty long minutes, temper growing gradually worse, before barrelling through the corridors (that he supposedly didn’t know the layout of) at breakneck speeds to reach his room and its fragile semblance of privacy.

Even now with the door shut and locked, Loki found he still couldn’t quite bring himself to release the fury that had his fists clenched and shaking by his sides. Cameras, cameras everywhere. His head whirled and he snarled furiously. Choices. He could destroy the cameras. Wanted to. Wanted to release the pent-up force inside him, the roiling mass of destructive magic desperate for an outlet other than himself… Choices… if he did that, they would know he could.

He could feel the weight of the cameras bearing down on him, eyes always on him, watching, judging, hunting for weakness… and then they were gone. Almost unbidden his magic had roared from him, every lens not just in his room, but in all the surrounding floors suddenly gone dead.

Had he concentrated, he would have heard the sudden shouts of panic, the siren going off right outside his door, but now the damn was broken there was no tearing Loki away from the edge of his frustration. Every item in the room that was not bolted down was torn from its place and hurled into the air. Loki stood, motionless at the centre of a storm, not reacting even when books and pens and coffee mugs and other detritus battered against his body. He could not feel any longer. He had to forget. Jack Frost was merciless. He felt neither remorse nor guilt. He couldn’t, not with all the things he’d done. Opening that dam even a hairline crack would quite possibly be his destruction, because if he allowed himself to feel – really feel, not just brush aside – guilt for even one of the terrible things in his past, he would have to feel it for them all. No creature, mortal or otherwise was prepared for such an avalanche of self-recrimination.

* * *

When Romanoff arrived in the room, Loki’s outpouring of what he refused to acknowledge as emotion was over, and there was only the aftermath. The door opened slowly to reveal her crouched in a defensive position, gun at the ready. At the sight that met her though, she straightened and moved into the room warily, as though expecting a trick.

Loki sat, back propped up against the wall, feet torn and bleeding where he had stumbled uncaring through the shreds of paper and shards of ceramic that surrounded him.

Romanoff picked her way carefully through and crouched down opposite him – she didn’t move too close, and kept a wary eye on him as she settled back on her heels. She telegraphed her every move so Loki would not be surprised. Her caution appeared to be halfway in-between that you might show a cornered animal, and that you would use to reassure a frightened victim. She watched him for a long few minutes, and when she finally spoke, the intake of breath she took before stood out like a shout in the silent room.

“Which one was it?” She asked, “The women. You knew one of them?”

Loki was silent. How could she possibly have guessed that? He was reluctant to give her any information, afraid it would be used against him, or worse, _her_. But the words spilled from him regardless.

“The Asian. She was there when I first arrived. I was part of the security when she was transferred… They were calling her Fumiko but she’s not Japanese, she’s Korean.”

Romanoff remained silent, so Loki continued.

“She was gagged so I couldn’t converse with her, and blindfolded so she couldn’t see who anyone was… I think she’d been with them for months by then, you’d think she’d be used to it… but somehow she seemed even more afraid.”

Romanoff still said nothing, but the silence seemed different now – tenser – as though he had hit on something she hoped he would move on from. Exhausted, Loki filed the information away for later, but let it rest for now.

“She cried for the entire five-hour journey,” He rasped, “She’s _seventeen_.”

Romanoff cursed and Loki knew why – that girl was on their list. She would be one of their ‘products’ to sample, and she was underage. He pulled his knees up, dropping his head into his hands and ignored Romanoff until she went away.

Perhaps he had turned on the dramatics a little. Oh he was so furious he was astounded the damage he had done was limited to within his room. It truly had shaken him to see the girl’s photos in the small ‘photo album’ that ‘Mark’ had brought to show them, but the shaking delivery of that news to Romanoff… well, embarrassing though it may have been to admit that it had some truth to it, revealing somewhat more of that truth than he usually would have worked wonders to throw the agents off the true plans slowly taking shape in his head.

Now was not the time to act on those plans though. Loki still had no idea where the women were being kept. He needed that information before he could… well, he didn’t really know what. He had no intention of following along with the agency’s plans all the way through to the end, but his own alternate ending was still hazy and uncertain. More data was needed.

He sat back and closed his eyes, remaining in the same position until Romanoff returned to escort him to a new room – this one devoid of any item even remotely breakable. Or able to be used as the most rudimentary of weapons, he noticed – the bed was just a block of foam, without even sheets that he could use to harm an agent – or, as Loki supposed the agency could be fearing – himself.

He sat docile on the bed, lying down and closing his eyes. He slept for a while, and spent the next few days attempting to meditate until his emotions were locked up safely back behind their walls. Eventually, Coulson and Romanoff made an appearance for their usual double act briefing him for the next bout of undercover.

His roots were, somewhat unnecessarily touched up – Loki had subtly shifted the colour of his hair to avoid roots ever becoming an issue, but of course the people dying his hair didn’t know this, so they exclaimed delightedly at how good the coverage still was, clearly under the illusion that their own proficiency was somehow responsible for this. They had fortunately given up on trying to convince him contact lenses were a good idea.

“We’re not entirely sure what this will involve.” Coulson admitted reluctantly. “The terms our contact used are, we suspect intentionally vague.”

“I suppose this is the point where you attempt to strong-arm me into swearing I will do whatever is necessary for our cover?” Loki narrowed his eyes at Coulson, leaning back in his chair. “You have my word on only this: I will have no part in the physical violation of any one of these girls. I will look at them and pretend to appreciate what I see, that at least is easy. But I have no interest in putting any part of my body where it is not wanted.”

Romanoff glanced up in something like surprise, and Loki stung. Did she think he had taken an active part in his role at the New York warehouse? Actually forced himself on some of those girls, just for the sake of playing a role? A grimace appeared on his face despite his attempts to suppress it. She had no reason not to suspect that, he supposed – after all, he had made an effort to appear utterly at ease with her own vulnerable position, and the power over her that gave him. He had acted in his room as though being caught fucking a woman was not particularly worthy of remark or embarrassment – even showed off to the man at the door… For god’s sake, his head had been buried between her thighs for however long – the fact he hadn’t so much as touched her was irrelevant when he thought about how casually he had taken up the position.

Yes, he supposed when he thought about it, he could play the part of a sexual predator rather more aptly than he liked to think. Good, he tried to tell himself, that would all add to his intimidation faculties. The mental self-congratulation fell flat though. That was not the kind of fear he wanted to be causing.

“Very well,” Coulson soothed, “Though it puts us in something of an awkward position. You will have to provide convincing excuses for your non-contact, should it be necessary, or you risk endangering the entire operation.”

“I am aware.” Loki nodded. “Is Romanoff willing to do the dirty work, if it were needed? If so I can simply appear to defer to her. That is, after all the role you have given me is it not?”

Coulson didn’t respond, only looked at Romanoff. His face was, so far as Loki could tell utterly blank, lacking anything that could be described as command or persuasion. He really did seem to be offering his agent the choice.

Romanoff looked away, corners of her mouth downturned. Loki did not envy her the position of having to commit to something so abhorrent for so fragile a concept as ‘necessity.’

“Think of it this way, Romanoff,” he found himself contributing. “You may dislike me for a great number of reasons, my charming personality by no means least amongst them. However, recall my actions at the New York base when I touched you without specific consent as part of my role, part of our plan to get you out. Recall those times and consider whether they are amongst the reasons you hate me.” 

Romanoff actually appeared to consider his words, as after a moment she gave a small shake of her head. A small light of hope was blooming in her eyes.

“These girls may never have the luxury of knowing you acted for their own protection,” Loki continued, “They will surely hate you because of that,” Romanoff’s face tightened as she tried not to show her upset, that small light gone. Coulson was openly frowning, believing no-doubt that Loki was intentionally baiting Romanoff into being too upset to adequately carry out the mission. So Loki rushed to his conclusion before either of them could stop him speaking. “However,” and he saw that tiny spark of hope return, “you will have to remind yourself that if they only knew the truth of your actions, they would hate you for them no more than you hate me for mine.”

Piece said, he leant back in his chair, a smirk brushing over the edges of his lips.

“Yes, thank you Frost.” Coulson responded after a while, his tone carefully even. “Romanoff?”

She still said nothing, but nodded decisively.

Coulson gave Loki a barely-perceptible nod of thanks and the briefing continued as usual. They were to attend the meeting point given to them by ‘Mark,’ and go along with whatever security he felt necessary. Something which would hopefully not deter the de-activated trackers they were planning on wearing in their usual ring-format – this time disguised as their wedding rings. They would keep them inactive the entire time they were at the base, only setting them off when they were beyond security on their return trip – hopefully at a point where they would still be able to find the base again, without setting off any alarms. Unfortunately, Loki would gain nothing from this as the GPS information would go directly to the organisation, but this did not worry him overmuch – he had his own ways of pinning down the location once he had been taken there.

* * *

They met ‘Mark’ outside the same hotel they had met him in before, climbing into the sleek silver car he led them to. They were driven for about ten minutes, before the car pulled over and ‘Mark’ signalled that they should get out. Stepping out of the vehicle they were met by several men in dark sunglasses touting guns that were only just _not_ pointed at them – held ready to raise within seconds. For a moment, Loki feared that their ruse was up – that perhaps Moreno _had_ given the game away, and all because he hadn’t worn contact lenses.

Fortunately, before he could spiral too far into self-doubt, ‘Mark’ offered up two thick blindfolds.

Hah, he knew he was right not to bother with the contact lenses.

“I’m sure you won’t mind putting these on for the continuation of our trip?” Mark asked, the threat implicit in the twitching trigger fingers of his companions.

“Don’t you trust us, ‘Mark?’” Loki asked jovially, taking the blindfold with a sardonic smile.

“Obviously not.” ‘Mark’ responded, “You don’t last long in this business by being trusting.” He spat the last word disgustedly and Loki couldn’t help but frown at how closely the man’s derision of trust mirrored his own. He put the blindfold on to mask the expression and reached out to take hold of Romanoff’s arm, sliding his fingers down her arm and intertwining their hands as though he were seeking moral support. In truth he only wanted to be sure they were not separated.

Once ‘Mark’ was satisfied that they were both sufficiently unaware of their surroundings, Loki heard the rustle of his suit jacket as he lifted his arm in some sort of signal. Immediately, the engine of their car started up and it drove away. For a moment there was silence, then Loki heard the rumble of a considerably older engine approaching – a van, judging by the size.

The van stopped next to them and Loki and Romanoff were guided to climb into the back, seatbelts snapping around them that Loki very much doubted they would be able to undo themselves.

Loki mapped the stops and turns of the van as best as he could in his head, given his decidedly limited knowledge of the local geography. Still, only a knowledge of the basic cardinal points was enough for him to very quickly ascertain that they were travelling in great looping circles, taking them in a South-Easterly direction overall. He indicated his awareness that they were travelling in circles by tracing one on the back of Romanoff’s hand where it was still intertwined with his. She squeezed his hand back in what he assumed was acknowledgement.

After what felt like an age, they finally slowed down, trundling between narrower streets and occasionally beeping at other vehicles. They came to a stop and Loki and Romanoff were led out of the van into what, judging by the echoes was a tall but narrow alley – only just wide enough for the van to get into. They were pulled none-too-gently forwards, under a fire-escape which dripped on Loki’s head and through a door which slammed shut and was locked behind them. They walked behind their silent guide through twisting corridors until they were directed to sit down on a sofa, the door to that room also closing behind them.

This room was slightly larger, and even before the blindfold was taken off Loki had an inkling of the sight that would await him. He could hear the breathing of more than one person in the room with them. Some of the breaths were calm and collected, pulling in deep and releasing unhurriedly with the ease of someone who was in charge of the situation – likely carrying weapons. There were others though – three or perhaps four – who were not breathing so easily. He could hear breaths hissing in through clenched teeth, the motions short and sharp, as though the air was being forced into their lungs through sheer willpower – their position was not a comfortable one. The tempo of breathing was elevated – they were afraid.

Sure enough, when the blindfold was finally lifted from his eyes, Loki was presented with the abysmal sight of three women wearing blindfolds of their own, stood in the centre of the room with their arms shackled to a bar above their heads. They were held straight so the position forced their chests out to present their bare breasts in a sick parody of a seductive pose. Their nipples were taut in reaction to the cool air of the room, and their skin had raised itself into goosebumps as they shivered half with cold and half with fear.

Loki had rested a hand on Romanoff’s thigh as they sat, and he felt the muscles there tense as the sight was revealed to her as well – Loki realised suddenly that she could quite possibly have found herself in just such a position, had he not agreed to lend his aid.

“Here are the three girls we agreed on,” ‘Mark’ spoke, both their blindfolds clutched in his hands. “You have ten minutes to check them out, and then we will expect a decision. We will deliver the girl you choose once we can be sure you have the correct facilities to… take care of her. You may look as closely as you like, but no touching the merchandise, if you please.”

Loki now felt Romanoff sag slightly in relief beside him, but he spread a slight disappointment across his expression.

“You are already aware of each of their extra features, I assume?” ‘Mark’ asked, and Romanoff jumped in before Loki could throw a spanner in the works.

“Yes,” she spoke, standing and pulling Loki with her. “We’ve already talked about that, it’s mainly just based on which one we prefer the look of now. Come on darling, let’s take a peek.” She grinned at him wickedly and Loki pasted on the disconcerting look of devotion he saved just for her as he obediently followed her towards the hapless women.

“I don’t like that one, darling.” He muttered as he gestured towards the Korean girl. “Too skinny.” He moved a little closer and spoke with a touch of his old Russian accent. He kept his voice low so the girl would hear the inflections of his words, but all the guards would hear was the low buzz of his words. “Not my type.”

The girl stiffened. She had heard him say those words, in that tone before, when one of the men had offered Loki a ‘go’ at her during her transfer. He watched her the delicate muscles of her face work under her blindfold as she tried to work out the connection between his presence here and his previous appearance as a guard. He wasn’t certain what conclusion she had come to, but apparently it was something reassuring as she relaxed minutely in her bonds.

Romanoff made a show of considering the woman, walking around to look at her from behind as well before nodding decisively. “You’re right, honey.” She soothed, “Not really what we’re looking for.” Her gaze sharpened for a moment though as she caught his eye – she knew he had said something to alert the girl to his identity, and judging by the narrowing of her eyes, she was not too happy about it.

Still, they moved on to the other two girls, occasionally tossing ideas back and forth over which was better and why. Loki moved closer to the girls and they twisted away from him as far as their restraints allowed when he leaned over them, a smile playing over his lips as he pretended to enjoy their reactions to his threatening presence.

Finally, they decided on the blonde one. She was a pretty thing, Loki observed detachedly – unnervingly close to what he might pick out himself in a bar. He remained with the girls, for all appearances drinking in the form of their chosen ‘product’ in anticipation of her delivery, whilst Romanoff went to inform ‘Mark’ of their choice. As their conversation wrapped up, Loki’s attention was caught by a woman entering the room. ‘Mark’s’ reaction suggested that the new figure was his superior, so Loki trained his full attention on her to see what he could learn from the woman. She was older than ‘Mark,’ well-dressed but a little less well-coiffed. Her pale hair was frazzled as though it had been dyed a great many times, and the sagging skin of her cheeks spoke of a life lived in excesses.

She glanced appreciatively at Loki as she entered, giving him a once-over that was enough to make his skin crawl. He was well used to being looked at – he was naturally an attractive man and was vain enough never to shift too far away from a handsome form. What he did not enjoy was the memories the intent stare brought back for him – usually the looks he got were just that: looks – but the woman’s presumed profession meant that she was fully capable of acting on her desires with or without the subject’s consent… and just as capable of facilitating the same for others. Loki had nothing but dark memories of such people.

Still, he tore his gaze back to the present and focused his ruminations on the other thing that felt off about the woman’s lusty perusal of him. Namely, that it was him she enjoyed the sight of. Trailing behind the woman was a girl. Her style of dress indicated she was not an important member of the organisation, and her hunched shoulders and miserable face implied she was there under duress – her entire mannerism recalled to Loki the abused women he had seen acting in housekeeping roles at the other base – all listlessness and silent, hopeless obedience. And yet she clearly wasn’t there for sexual purposes. The woman she trailed behind was clearly not remotely interested in the female form.

The woman’s non-reaction to the naked girls in the middle of the room could just have been a question of desensitisation, something she saw every day in the course of her job. However, she had been similarly unperturbed by Romanoff’s dynamic figure, in stark contrast to her hungry appreciation of Loki’s body. Not gay, not bisexual, but voraciously straight. So why then, was she in possession of a personal bondswoman?

Perhaps because this particular girl was pressed into service for something other than her body? Could this be an example of the ‘extra features’ being bandied around?

Loki continued to gaze at the woman, paying only enough attention to the main conversation where Romanoff was leading the price-negotiations and arranging payment to ensure he appeared to be listening intently, nodding and making noises of agreement in all the right places.

He couldn’t see anything particularly special about her – possibly it was hidden by her clothing? Still, this was something worth investigation. Silently, cautiously, he reached his magical senses out towards the girl and tagged a tiny spark of magic onto her person – now he could find her, no matter where she might go.

This done, he returned his full attention to the conversation. The woman spoke with clipped tones and a strong Chicago accent. She seemed eloquent though, and was holding her own against Romanoff’s doubtless toned-down negotiation skills.

Finally, a price was agreed and Romanoff opened her handbag, pulling out half the agreed amount in stacks of dollar bills. The money was quickly counted by a few of the armed lackeys, then ‘Mark’ was back in front of them proffering the blindfolds once more. Loki took his and pulled it on, though not before blowing a kiss in the direction of the oblivious girl they had just paid for. Still, the guards saw it and snickered in amusement.

Loki smirked along whilst silently plotting the myriad ways he could kill each and every one of them, bathe his hands in their foul, cruel blood as he had in New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark thoughts, Loki.
> 
> Speaking of dark, there will hopefully be another short story posted in this series sometime tomorrow. It will detail part of Loki's history that he's hinted at during 'Jack Frost,' and it will be DARK. Very dark, and fairly graphic in places. If that's not your thing, I will post a TLDR version in the end-notes of that story so you still have the gist.


	13. How to Irritate your Secretive Government Agency

Loki was disconcertingly calm following the latest foray into their undercover work. Romanoff spent the entire return journey watching him nervously as though expecting him to explode as he had before. When he didn’t, her gaze grew gradually sharper and more suspicious. Still, she clearly judged him calm enough to go straight into their debriefing, as he soon found himself back in the usual dull office facing off against her and Coulson. Romanoff ran through her report with clinical precision, stopping only occasionally to ask Loki for clarification.

Loki had long since made the decision to volunteer no more information than he was directly questioned on, so he didn’t bother mentioning the fire escape she had missed.

“What did you say to that girl?” She asked at one point, and Loki didn’t have to consider long to realise that she meant the Korean girl.

“I merely laid the foundations for her to guess that she had encountered me before.” Loki soothed, “I repeated a phrase she had heard me use before and might recognise my voice by. It was not out of context and will not be easily detected – the very fact that you are unsure what exactly that phrase was is proof of that.”

“Still,” Romanoff sniffed, “it could have been dangerous if they had noticed. She could have given us away.”

“Agent Romanoff, I am a _professional._ ” Loki snapped. “Just because I do not allow a single agency to control me does not mean I am anything less. That the girl chose to take my presence as a reassuring one was not entirely unforeseen, but you may be sure that she retains enough uncertainty of her and my positions that she will not be giving anything away.”

“Well, you had better hope you’re right.” Coulson shot back. “If you jeopardise this operation just because you’re feeling sore about not being entirely in the know, there will be consequences.”

“Yes, yes, the dreaded ‘consequences,’” Loki waved a hand airily. “Speaking of being in the know, Romanoff did you notice the ringleader had a little toy of her own?”

Romanoff and Coulson both frowned at his referring to the girl as a toy, before their faces shuttered almost simultaneously.

“Yes, she was obviously just the favourite victim of the day,” Romanoff tried to bluff, but Loki gleefully called her on it. In his eagerness to force a slip from the green young agent, he forgot all about the earlier decision not to give away any information of his own.

“No. She seemed too used to following that woman around for it to be a one-off, and she was clearly not there for sexual purposes. That woman clearly had no interest whatsoever in the female form – beyond for business purposes. No, that girl was there for something else… Perhaps one of those extra features you’re so keen on?”

“Frost.” Coulson’s tone was cooler than Loki had yet heard it, a clear warning to back down. Obviously that wasn’t going to happen.

Instead, Loki shot him a broad grin. “Getting a little close for comfort am I, Agent Coulson?”

Coulson’s lip twitched towards a frown before he caught it, but he ignored the taunt.

“Unless you have anything constructive to share with us Mr Frost, I think it’s about time you returned to your room.”

Until that moment, Loki had kept his irritation well held down, but sick of all the obfuscation, it briefly burst from his control as he stood violently from his seat. His chair clattered backwards across the floor and every agent in the room suddenly had a weapon trained on him.

“Oh for fucks sake.” He groaned, “Just take me back to my fucking cell already. It may be dull as shit but at least it’s free of imbeciles.”

“Room, Mr Frost.”

“Oh do let’s not pretend at civilisation Agent Coulson,” Loki spat. “I’ve been in dungeons with more character, as well as more escape routes.”

Coulson just sighed and signalled a few of the more heavily armed agents to transport the irate consultant through the base.

Halfway down one of the corridors was a conveniently located alcove. As they passed it, Loki slipped away and sent a clone to take his place amongst the guards. Free now from scrutiny he hid himself from cameras and other means of detection and made his way out of the base. Once he was sure he was clear, he released the clone so it shimmered away from its place in the midst of the guards. With the dim awareness he had left linked to the clone he heard shouts of alarm from the agents, and the shriek of sirens echoed plaintively behind him.

* * *

It was not hard to follow the trail of his own magic to find the woman he believed to be at the top of that particular link in the chain. As he had expected, she was still at the base, which was actually closer than he had expected, barely an hour-and-a-half’s walk away in an old industrial estate. He waited until nightfall then circled the building for a while, looking for a way in.

Finally, he spied a fire escape propped open whilst someone was smoking outside. Serendipity was a fine thing, he thought with a wicked grin as he recognised the gangly man stood with a cigarette between his lips.

Moreno.

It was too easy, really – the fire escape was old and rickety, clinging tenuously to the side of the building as it snaked up three or four storeys to the roof. An accident waiting to happen. As Moreno obliviously enjoyed his final cigarette, Loki sent tendrils of power out to loosen the already crumbling brickwork around the bolts holding the escape to the wall. Deprived of its support the rusted structure began to buckle, taking the unfortunate Moreno with it.

In all the calamity of the collapsed tangle of metal on the ground and the very dead man crushed and impaled within it, no-one noticed Loki slipping through a fire-escape four floors up.

Now he was in, he only had to find the girl from earlier – she was the best clue to these mysterious ‘extra features’ the agents were so against him finding out about. Still, it was best to err on the side of caution so his agency-given identity would still be allowed admittance should it be necessary, so he sloughed off the disguise he currently wore to return to his ‘Jack Frost’ appearance.

Avoiding people and cameras, he crept through the long corridors, turning and backtracking often. Unfortunately, his magical trace only told him the direction of his target, rather than giving him a direct route through the maze of brick corridors to find her. Finally, he was sure he had found the correct room. He didn’t bother with knocking, only flicked the simple lock open with a spell and strolled inside.

The woman was in bed reading, with the girl secured by a retractable cable to the foot of the bed. Upon Loki’s entry, the woman immediately sprang forwards, grabbing the girl roughly by her arm and pulling her in front of her. At the woman’s snapped order, the girl raised her trembling hands and a shield shimmered into place in front of her – one which also protected the woman cowering behind her. Well, perhaps cowering was the wrong verb, Loki reflected as the woman suddenly snapped upright, this time armed with a gun which she showed no hesitation in emptying in Loki’s direction.

Reflexively, Loki raised a shield of his own and the bullets bounced off it, ricocheting around the room until they finally lodged themselves in various items of furniture. Loki was pleased to note that one of them bounced behind the woman and her reluctant bodyguard and sank into her back just beside her left shoulder blade. Moving quicker than either woman could anticipate he knocked the girl away and pinned the woman prone on the floor.

“Stay there and keep quiet,” he warned the girl, who looked like she was working up to a scream. “I mean you no harm but I will take whatever measures I deem necessary to keep my presence here a secret.”

The girl nodded shakily and Loki turned his attention to the woman who was spitting curses beneath him.

“Who the hell are you?” She asked, furious.

Loki chuckled. “I am Jack Frost.”

He couldn’t help but enjoy the moment of dread he felt overtake the woman as she briefly stilled under him before redoubling her efforts to escape. Clearly his reputation was still good for something.

“You fucked up our branch in New York.” the woman ranted. So, Moreno had talked. Suddenly Loki wished he’d taken the time to torture him a little before killing him. “Cost us a lot of money Frost, you’re a wanted man.”

“Surely you can’t imagine that worries me, given that I took out an entire base of yours more-or-less single-handed?” Loki laughed mockingly. “Now my dear, you have the pleasure of my name, might I be blessed with yours?”

The woman went silent, her body setting in stubborn lines. Loki prepared himself for a long, drawn out session of dragging the information out of her, but to his pleasant surprise the younger girl seemed to have no qualms about screwing her ‘employer’ over.

“Her name’s Agatha Boada.” She blurted out, words tumbling from her mouth then seizing until she was sure Loki showed no adverse reaction to her interruption. “And I’m Simone Iffield. They took me from…”

“Later Simone. I will deal with Ms Boada and then perhaps you can share your life story.” Loki dismissed her, uncaring when she subsided into embarrassed silence. “Now Miss Boada, I am aware that your despicable operation deals largely with the trade of unwilling whores. However, it has recently come to my attention that there is another side to your operation. Do please enlighten me on this – what exactly are the ‘extra features’ you charge your clients through the nose for?”

The woman remained stubbornly silent once more, until Loki ground his knee into the shoulder where a bullet was buried in her flesh. A scream tore from between her gritted teeth and Loki smiled pleasantly. “Don’t make me ask you again dear Agatha,” he cooed. “I would quite happily tear the answers I seek from you slowly, but I am working on a bit of a schedule so things could get… messy if you decide to make life difficult.” He leaned close and whispered in her ear almost tenderly. “You are amongst the very lowest of creatures on this Earth, to take from people’s bodies what they do not willingly give, and to do so without remorse. I promise you, you will die this day as you well deserve. The choice of whether your death will be quick and relatively painless, or slow, drawn out and endlessly agonising is entirely up to you.”

He felt her shudder beneath him and grinned. There was the intimidation factor he so valued.

“Mutants.” She whispered.

“Oh,” Loki drew out the vowels pleasurably, “Do go on.”

The woman resisted so he dug a finger into the bullet wound, chuckling remorselessly as Boada sobbed with pain.

“We… we sell them,” she finally ground out in-between gasps. “Find mutants with useful powers and… sell them. If they’re pretty it’s a bonus be… because they have double… argh, double use… twice the value.”

She sobbed again as Loki growled and dug his finger in even further. The mutant-kind were the closest he had encountered to what he could consider his own people. He had heard whispers of mutants just as long lived as him, with abilities which rivalled, or perhaps exceeded his own – though never such a variety of gifts all in the same body as his were, to his utter disappointment.

This woman’s abuse of people like him not just for their bodies but for their every power, for everything that made them different was especially sickening to him. To take a power they shoul own only for themselves and turn it into a commodity for the benefit of other people… He had to force himself not to simply reach out and end the bitch’s life.

“Other bases.” He bit out, not removing his bloody finger from the wound he was cruelly aggravating with every movement.

“A…Alas… ka.” The woman wept.

“Yes, Port Clarence Bay I know of that one. Exporting to Russia, I assume. And the Russian base?”

“Lav…ren…tia…” The woman choked.

“Anything else I should know of?” He enquired, “A ringleader, perhaps?”

“No.” The woman answered slightly too quickly, then, “No!” as Loki drove the bullet ever further into her shoulder. As it was there was no way she would ever regain full movement of her arm. Still though, there was more to be gained. Now, he crooked his finger slightly so it tore at the tender flesh inside the wound.

An animalistic screech tore forth from Boada’s chest and she finally caved. “Surtur! Gustav Surtur! M…m…Michael Ya… yang, Sue K…kris…kristena... Alexei K...Koskov...” She continued, reeling off a long list of stuttered names. Loki filed them carefully in his head, waiting to be sure she was finished before finally giving into his desires and snapping her neck, twisting it round with vicious delight.

He rested a moment when he was sure she was expired, then stood and turned to the girl – Simone. She was pressed against the wall, trembling violently. Loki almost felt sorry for her, but then his anger reasserted itself – not at her, but at the entire, ugly situation.

“Stop snivelling.” He growled. “I told you I meant you no harm and I meant it. Surely you cannot mourn the passing of that disgusting creature?” He nodded to the bloodied corpse on the ground and Simone’s eyes flitted towards it, then danced away as though reluctant to look.

“No, I wanted her gone but…”

Loki forced himself to remember that not everyone was used to grotesque torture scenes and gentled his tone.

“I forget,” he admitted, “that not everyone is familiar with the less savoury side to espionage. Nevertheless, it cannot be known that I was here, so I will need to arrange the evidence to seem as though you were the one to overcome your jailer.”

“Wh…what?” Simone seemed horrified. “But… but I could never do this.”

“You’d be surprised what people can do to escape situations they do not want to be in.” Loki sniped. “And we shall have to hope it is assumed that you just ‘snapped.’ It has been known to happen in long-term captives.”

“But, I can go home now?” Simone asked, hopeful tears welling up. “My mum and Dad, my sister…”

A storm of bitterness took Loki by surprise, his anger now directing itself away from the dead woman and towards the innocent girl.

“Likely believe you dead.” He interrupted her sentence, then regretted it almost immediately when her face crumpled and tears spilled down her cheeks. “I am sure they will be most pleased to find that is not the case.” He offered as comfort. “But unfortunately they cannot do so for some time yet. This trading ring must be wrapped up before you return home, or there is a significant risk they will come after and kill you. I will look into your family also being taken into protective custody, but I am in no position to pull strings at the moment. The organisation that will protect you are likely to be extremely angry at me for coming here tonight.”

He set about arranging the woman. He had been careful to keep her injuries minimal beyond the ravaged bullet wound, and had snapped her neck in a fashion that was more reliant on leverage than on strength so it was believable that a young girl could have done it.

“Speaking of anger.” This time he intentionally drew on some of his anger, allowing it to stain his tone and bearing as a warning as he turned back to Simone. “You have been witness this night to abilities of mine that are not known to any other. Speak of them even once and no witness protection programme on Earth will hide you from me. Do I make myself clear.” His colouring bled back to the disguise thrust on him by the agency as he spoke, but his menacing demeanour remained the same.

“Y-y-y-yes, Sir.” The poor girl stuttered, a fresh wave of tears cascading down her cheeks.

“Good.” The murderous atmosphere evaporated and Loki suddenly snapped back to his usual charming façade – or what he liked to call charming. “Now then dear Miss Iffield, we must make our escape. Stick with me, if you please. And keep that shield of yours handy.”

He led her out of the base by the hand, feeling her gradually relaxing in his presence. Frowning, he bit down on the urge to frighten her again, do something to stop the trust he could feel building up in her. How he could not understand. Yes, he had rescued her, but he had then proceeded to torture a woman mercilessly before her very eyes and threaten her and obliquely her family with bodily harm. Still, he supposed the fact that he was a young-looking attractive man who had already slayed a ‘dragon’ to protect her helped… he could practically hear the pathetic teenage fantasies running through her brain.

Eventually they were out of the building and headed back to the agency. The trip took twice as long with a whiny teenage girl attached to his arm, until Loki eventually grew bored of her whimpering and slung her on his back in a piggyback. After that, they made much better time.

In hindsight, the piggyback probably didn’t exactly discourage the whole teenage infatuation… nor did pretending to listen patiently as she talked about her family and her dreams for the new, free future in an attempt to keep her mostly calm.

He put her down when they were still several hundred metres from the agency base that he wasn’t supposed to know the location of. This proved to be a wise decision, as before they had made it within 200 metres, a number of familiar darts came shooting out of the darkness towards him. Simone, to her credit, reacted well, immediately throwing up another one of her shields. It was too late though, three of the darts had found their mark even as more pinged away from them. They had clearly upped the strength of their tranquillisers, as Loki could feel the effects closing in on him hard and fast.

“Relax your shield.” He ordered as he stumbled away from Simone. “Put your hands on your head and do as you are told, and they will not harm you. Tell them what you can do, but not what I can.”

She lurched towards him as though to help and he held up a hand, forcing authority into his fading tone. “Wait.” He ordered, and she stopped. “Do not fret. This reaction to my return is not exactly a surprise to me.”

Simone began to cry again, and darkness claimed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Kudos and reviews are hugely appreciated, as always!


	14. A Compromise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Jack Frost is back after a looooooong writers-block induced break!  
> I am so sorry! I knew where I wanted the story to go, and had most of this current chapter written. However, I then got myself so wrapped up in narrative-knots that I had to effectively start the chapter after this from scratch in a new document and hope for the best.  
> It worked, and the next chapter is now done, and about twice the length of a normal chapter to boot. That will be posted next week. I was going to post it along with this one, but in order to avoid such a long wait in future, I thought it would be better off to try build myself a buffer over the next week or so, since I now seem to have beaten off the block (touch wood)!

Loki woke up on the gurney again. This time though, he was all-but welded in. Thick bands of metal stretched across his chest and limbs, locked into place with sturdy metal bars pushed through them. Loki assumed the bars could be retracted somehow but with his limited field of visibility he could not really be sure. It was quite possible that the only way out of his current situation was with an angle grinder. Shifting slightly, he felt the alarming prick of a needle pressed to the back of his neck – the promised tranquilliser, he supposed.

Turning his head as far as the band across his forehead allowed, he saw no sign of anyone else being in the room, and nor could he hear any movement. He decided not to attempt any more ‘extra-curricular’ senses here, where any number of scanners could be trained on him without his knowledge. Sighing, he settled in to wait.

“Mr Frost.” Coulson’s voice came from behind him, and damn it, Loki jumped.

“Ah, good morning Agent Coulson!” He grinned delightedly, trying to pretend the surprise had never happened. Coulson circled round into Loki’s field of vision with a smug little smirk on his face that made Loki want to rip it off. Clamping down on the violent urge, he forced himself to remember that he _had_ gone out of his way to piss the man off, and make his agency’s tight security look like something of a joke.

“How did you get out of our base undetected?” Coulson asked immediately.

“Give a man a moment, Agent. I have only just awoken from a drug-induced coma. Don’t suppose you care to share how long I’ve been out this time?”

Coulson didn’t reply, only stared at Loki implacably.

“No small talk? Fine. I escaped your base the same way I got into their base undetected: Through trickery, a conveniently open door, and the patience to wait for that opening. I assure you, your organisation has not been in the least implicated.”

“And you can guarantee that?”

Loki shrugged as eloquently as was possible given his limited range of motion. “Yes. I was careful to leave behind the impression that Simone was the one to kill the woman, and avoided cameras studiously. You’ll agree I’m rather good at that.”

“And how do you explain the bodies?”

“Body, singular. The first death of the evening was a tragic accident as a result of extremely old brick and metalwork and I defy anyone to prove otherwise. And as for that one suspicious death, well, it really wasn’t difficult to leave the impression that Simone was the one to do the deed.”

“You framed a sixteen-year-old girl for a murder?”

Loki scoffed. “Oh like it isn’t believable. Such things have been done by yet younger children many times when placed under such terrible duress. It would be hypocritical to point fingers when your pretty little trainee has surely been killing from her youth, no? Besides, Simone knew I planned to do so and did not speak against it… though then again, she was really rather terrified of me by that point.”

“And were it to be brought against her in court.”

“Agent Coulson, do not take me for a fool.” Loki hissed. “Your attempts to intimate or perhaps inspire guilt in me are futile. This entire operation is secretive enough that the girl will never face court, and frankly I could not care less if she does. She is no longer any concern of mine. You will doubtless ensure she is returned to her family eventually without any intervention from me.” The threat was implicit in his tone, despite the careless phrasing: See it done, or face my wrath.

Coulson nodded minutely and Loki relaxed. Whilst he had no intention of fighting for Simone’s rights, she deserved to find her home again, assuming she was fortunate enough still to have one waiting for her.

“Who were the casualties?”

_Fucksake_ he jumped, again.

“Where the fuck did you spring from?” He demanded as Romanoff joined Coulson in his line of sight.

“I’ve been here the whole time,” she replied smoothly, and Loki suppressed a wince. He had no doubt that she had been killing since well before her teenage years – she was too hardened for anything else to be the truth. But still, it did seem somewhat uncouth to hurl her dark past as a weapon when he was so protective of his own. Not that he wouldn’t still have done it if he’d known she was there… he would just have been a little less blatant was all.

“The casualties, Frost. The people you murdered.”

“Person.” He insisted stubbornly. “I am quite happy to take full credit for snapping the scrawny neck of Ms Agatha Boada, the woman responsible for this particular base, but Moreno was crushed in a fire escape collapse that I surely couldn’t have had anything to do with.”

“Moreno?” Romanoff asked, suddenly sharper, forgetting to hold her guard up.

Loki nodded.

“It looked painful.” He continued solemnly. “Fire escape came away from the wall and collapsed. He was trapped inside it. Crushed, impaled, the works. Very bloody.”

 “Good.” Romanoff grinned viciously and Loki returned the expression. Sliding his gaze to Coulson, Loki saw the agent consider reprimanding her for the lapse in her mask, but he clearly couldn’t bring himself to do so, as he said nothing, instead moving the interrogation along.

“Were you able to get any further information out of Ms Boada before she… expired?” He asked, and Romanoff’s face immediately became all business again.

“Well….” Loki mused. “She was extremely resistant.”

“Mr Frost, we have spoken with Simone already.” Coulson prompted, clearly not standing for Loki’s hedging.

“Then surely you no longer need me,” Loki teased, “if she can tell you all.”

Coulson paused, unhappy with the reply he had to give. “She knows names were given, but cannot recall them. She is rather traumatised and appears to have blocked a certain amount of the evening from her memory.”

“Shame.” Loki quipped, offering no further detail. Oh he would give up what he knew, eventually, but he would not make it easy for them. After all, it wasn’t as though they had sanctioned him for this mission, so what right had they to demand his intelligence?

Coulson continued to stare, his hand reaching into his pocket and withdrawing what looked to be a remote. Wordlessly, he turned the simple device to show Loki the controls. Two buttons: One to control voltage, and a trigger button.

Ah. Things were markedly less friendly this time, then. Coulson’s expression was regretful – he clearly did not wish to use the remote, but resolute – he would, if he had to.

“Agent Coulson,” Loki began, his tone soft and even, without even a hint of inflection towards an emotional response. “There is very little pain you can cause me that I will not have felt before. Try though, and rest assured I will find a way off this slab and destroy every last one of you.”

Coulson sighed. “Then perhaps the time has come for a little more transparency – mutual of course. I will put this away and inform you of the full parameters of our mission, and in return you will warn us should you intend to undertake any such… vigilante efforts again.” He paused, “And of course, _not_ destroy every last one of us.”

Loki snorted. Now they offered transparency – when Loki had more-or-less figured out the whole charade anyway. Still, it was preferable to shock treatment.

“Very well.” He began. “Your parameters then? In exchange for all I know.”

A nod.

Loki shared the names he knew as a gesture of good faith, then Coulson explained the operation. Loki finally got to find out that the shady government organisation he found himself entrapped by were known as SHIELD: A tacky moniker for an organisation with a name far longer than common sense should allow. The mutant side to the equation explained why an agency specialising in extra-normal threats had involved themselves in dismantling a forced-prostitution ring that would normally be the remit of the more widely known intelligence services.

Throughout the explanations though, Loki remained restrained, and he could tell that Coulson continued to hold back somewhat. This was acceptable though; Loki could respect the man playing his cards close to his chest.

Unfortunately, the fact that he was doing the same with the exact location of the Russian base to get as much information from his reluctant allies as possible was not going down so well.

“Frost,” Coulson finally sounded irritated, “as long as you withhold this information, those bastards are finding more unfortunate mutants to force to their cause and getting more and more powerful. And what’s worse, there are men and women in that base, young mutants and humans barely more than children, enduring just what Simone was going through and more, worse than you could comprehend.”

 “Twelve years.”

It slipped out, the words anguished and furious, before Loki could help himself. In working through Coulson’s walls to mine for more information, the cracks had somehow spread through his own barriers.

“Oh God.” Romanoff gasped. “Twelve years – Near to half my lifetime, you said.” She shared a look with Coulson, comprehension dawning on both their faces as they made the connection. Loki closed his eyes and hung silently in his bonds, refusing to engage them, refusing to acknowledge the pity he could sense tainting the air around him, suffocating in its unwelcome empathy.

The silence stretched on almost longer than he could bear, and he was ready to leave. Ready to leave destruction behind him as he had all those years ago just to escape the pity which stung his hardened soul as surely as any whip.

Just as he reached for the magic though, the gurney beneath him clunked, and his restraints popped open. Opening his eyes, he met Coulson’s even gaze, now mercifully wiped clean of sympathy.

“I think we understand each other’s motivations a little more clearly now.” He said, “shall we continue.”

Finally, the air felt clear. Keeping his own expression just as even as Coulson’s, Loki moved with them to the next room where a table was plastered with maps, statistics and schematics. He placed a single finger on the location of the Russian base, and together they planned the next stage of their assault.

* * *

Plans falling into place, included this time in their creation, Loki felt somewhat more content as he was led back to his room. Romanoff was his escort this time, and she took him a route he didn’t recognise. Perhaps yet another change of habitation, he wondered when she stopped outside a door that was surely not his – it had far too little security. She swiped her card on the reader and motioned him to go through ahead of her. He did so, and immediately regretted it.

“Jack!” A high pitched squeal of his name was all the warning he got before a pair of scrawny arms wrapped themselves around him in a hug. He stiffened, glaring furiously at a smirking Romanoff over his shoulder.

“Simone.” He grunted, detaching her arms from his waist and stepping back to put a decent amount of space between him and the overly-affectionate child.

“They said you were still in for interrogation. I did tell them you rescued me, but they said they still had to shoot you. Nat said you were OK but I didn’t really believe her because oh my god you went down, like, totally dead to the world, you know.”

“Yes, I recall.” Loki replied. “Nat?” He asked over his shoulder again. “Putting your charge at ease, were you?”

“Yeah, Nat’s the coolest.” Simone gushed, “she got me a StarkPad so I could skype my Mom and Dad.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, they were like, so stoked to know I was alive still. Nat made up a story about how they got me out in a normal kinda raid too, so you’re like, totally in the clear. I know the truth though. Thank you so much, seriously. It sucked in there.”

Despite her glib phrasing, she sank back into herself with her last words. Loki found himself laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, sighing internally when she looked up at him hopefully.

“You do not ever have to go back there.” He promised, “I am quite sure this agency will ensure that. All you need do now, once you are home, is return to living your life.”

She sniffed and nodded, and Loki thought that was his cue to escape, before the tears she was threatening actually made an appearance.

“I need to go back to my room now.” He said, trying to keep how uncomfortable he felt out of his tone. If this child wanted to remember him as a noble saviour, rather than a monstrous torturing murderer… well, who was he to disabuse her of the notion? “I will not see you again, but I wish you well.”

She burst into tears. Dammit. Fucking teenagers. Lurching forwards, she hugged him, _again._ This time, Loki allowed her to hold onto him a little longer, even resting a careful hand on her back before stepping out of her embrace, more gently this time. She let him go, and he nodded his farewell silently as the door closed between them.

As soon as it clicked shut, he rounded on Romanoff.

“What the _everloving fuck_ was that?” He growled. She did not look alarmed, only smirked at him. He supposed being even a little kind to that girl had fucked over his ability to be threatening for the immediate future.

“Well, she just kept asking after you. I think she had a crush, you know.”

“Teenagers are idiots.” He snarled in response. “You show them a murderer, and they see a knight in shining fucking armour.”

“She’s happier that way though.” Romanoff pointed out, and Loki released a little of his anger, relaxing the tight set of his shoulders.

“Yes, I suppose she is.” He admitted. “Just take me back to my room. No more damn surprises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Kudos and comments much appreciated :)


	15. Because it is Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Natasha are undercover. Loki may be having a little too much fun with his false identity. He may also be having a little too much fun with Natasha, but that's beside the point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a time skip here, and Loki and Natasha are now in Alaska, fully undercover. 
> 
> Be aware that this chapter contains smuttiness. Some of the intentionally awful variety, and then some more of the (hopefully) less awful stuff. If that upsets you, I'll mark it with ******* before and after so you can skip it!

A thick blanket of fog rolled in from the sea, shrouding ships and homes alike in cold blankness. The fog seemed to glow from within with the sunrise, even as it dimmed the tendrils of light reaching through it to weak imitations of themselves. Masts, sails and hulls of the ships became all but impossible to discern, and even the fog lights showed only as weak pinpricks of colour. Only the foghorns ripping through the morning peace gave any clue to the ships’ movements – and indeed, when as the fog slid in from the ocean there had already been movement around the harbour – men and women preparing their ships for the day, loading and unloading goods and bustling around the waterline like driftwood on the tide.

For most, the arrival of the icy fog was just another part of their day – the fog around here was as inevitable as the snows – and just as cold. They shivered, wrapped their scarves a little tighter and went about their chores. However, amongst those going about their mornings stalked Loki. For him, the fog was an utter inconvenience, and its arrival plunged him into a foul mood. Oh, it wasn’t the cold that troubled him – in fact, that was part of the problem. Humans were just so _susceptible_ to the cold, and so long as Loki was pretending to be one of their number, he had to feign an equal weakness. Cold such as this meant wrapping himself up in several layers of bulky fabric that were entirely unnecessary, but hindered his agility considerably.

And then there was the fact that the hidden and despised nature that kept him from suffering the cold threatened every moment to reveal itself: On a normal day it was not such a problem. Yes, Alaska was a frozen wasteland, but usually it was not cold enough during the day to trigger Loki’s monstrous form to unfold itself from the icy cave inside him that he usually kept it trapped in. The foggy days though – the days when it snowed heavily, or when the wind rose to rage through the streets – those days the ice within him roared to be free, and Loki had to wrap himself all day in an uncomfortable layer of warmth. The drain on his magic was unpleasant, as was the suffocating sensation it produced, so Loki usually avoided it at all costs. In fact, the number of times he had attempted to avoid going out on a particularly cold day had left Romanoff with the impression that he was in her words ‘a bit pathetic’ about facing the cold. It would have amused Loki how wrong she was, had he not been so busy wishing she was right.

When she teased him he was quite happy to frown and grumble that he hated the cold. This, at least was no lie. Loki detested the cold with all the fury of every storm he had ever witnessed. The cold forced him to become the monster in form as well as heart. He hated the cold with the raging heat of an erupting volcano, and he loathed the monster with all the creeping, all-encompassing coldness of the fog that now surrounded him.

Maybe today would be the day they would finally find something useful. Maybe one of the dull-witted sailors would let slip a rumour about an unusual shipment. As he wrapped the blanket of magic around himself, Loki prayed to every deity he didn’t believe in that he would find something today – anything – that meant they could move on from this particular bout of undercover.

“Morning Shakespeare,” called a man at one of the market stalls. Loki suppressed an eye roll, and put on his best ‘eccentric author’ face.

“Oh, good morning Trent. How are you today my friend?”

“Pretty good yeah. Heck of a fog today right?”

“Yes, yes,” Loki mumbled, “Very atmospheric. Just the sort of weather I need, you know.”

Trent snorted. “For your book then?”

“Yes, precisely. Really sets the scene for a mysterious… oh I don’t know. What normally happens on days like this? I’m still searching for that spark of inspiration.”

Trent nodded exaggeratedly, biting down a laugh. Loki had made himself something of a fixture down at the docks as ‘Daniel’ (which Loki pronounced with a gleefully exaggerated accent as ‘Daaaaahniel’), a slightly mad English gentleman who had moved to a tiny cabin on the outskirts of town to seek inspiration for a novel he was writing.

Loki had been provided with a shell of a novel as part of the backstory SHIELD were creating for him, but he had of course taken great delight in ripping up that story plan, and creating one of his own that was absolutely terrible. He had since taken great pains to write segments of prose to read proudly to people around the town when they asked him about his progress. If the novel plan he made was bad, the parts he had actually written were well and truly dire – comically so. It was great fun for Loki to watch people try to contain their laughter during his dramatic readings and recitals. There were blatant plot holes, terrible descriptions, and a complete lack of regard for the laws of nature. The whole text so far was peppered with errors and misunderstandings.

In fact, reading sections of this work of tragic proportions aloud to Romanoff, who was along as Loki’s equally eccentric wife Margret, had been one of the first non-hostile interactions they’d had in private since arriving.

* * *

Loki was at his desk writing diligently on his typewriter that he had insisted on taking as part of his cover role when Romanoff appeared to peer over his shoulder. She stared at his writing for a moment, then recoiled

“Oh my God Frost, this is awful!” She cried, “You’re supposed to be playing a credible author.”

“Am not,” Loki responded childishly. “The backstory specifies an unpublished author. Nowhere did it say I had to be good. Besides, people are more likely to let things slip in front of someone they think is a complete idiot.”

Romanoff nodded slowly, clearly considering his words carefully.

“Shall I read some to you? It really is rather fun.” Loki offered. The suggestion was the first olive branch either of them had offered in the two weeks they had so far spent in Alaska.

Romanoff hesitated, clearly weighing the idea carefully. After two weeks of snapping, baiting and scowling at each other it took her a moment to assess that there was no obvious ulterior motive to the offer. “Go on then.” A hint of a smile played across her lips.

Loki sat back in his chair and picked up a page he had already finished typing.

“Alaska is cold.” He began, and Romanoff snorted. Even at that stage, before they had struck up any sort of camaraderie she had been amused by his dislike of the cold. Somewhat maliciously, perhaps. Loki scowled at her without any real malice and continued. “Alaska is so cold that I think my toes will fall off. Alaska always has snow but sometimes ice also. Alaska has blue sky and white snow and sometimes cars on the roads which are red or blue or silver or black. Alaska is not as nice as home because it is cold and I do not like the cold. Alaska is boring. It is boring because there is lots of snow…”

“And it is cold?” Romanoff finished for him, a query at the end of her sentence.

“Precisely,” Loki smirked. “I then go on to describe the various ways in which snow is boring, and how I don’t like snow because…”

“It is cold.” They finished together, and Romanoff laughed. Honestly, openly laughed. Loki laughed with her, and some of the tension that had been building in the house loosened a little.

Over the following week, they chipped away at the tension bit by bit. Most evenings, Romanoff would come and perch on the desk by the typewriter, and they would work together on the worst piece of writing either of them had ever seen. Before long, writing gave way to sharing the occasional anecdote, or some half-imagined hypothetical to make the other laugh. Slowly, out of the remains of their antagonistic start, a working relationship grew until Loki no longer dreaded returning home in the evenings.

One morning, Loki decided not to go out on his usual wanderings, instead pretending to work frenziedly in a stroke of inspiration. He was, if he was honest with himself, rather pleased at the thought of a whole day of exchanging terrible adjectives back and forth with Romanoff. He wasn’t honest with himself though, reluctant to admit forging any manner of attachment however slight, so he quashed the anticipation brutally and focussed on… well, that was rather the problem. He had precious little else _to_ focus on.

Their search had thus far yielded precious little of worth. They _thought_ they were in the right place – certainly many of the people here were hiding some sort of secret. However, they had yet to stumble on anything leading them to the Alaskan depot for the trafficking ring – so focussing on those plans was out. Loki passed a little time cataloguing who he had definitely cleared, and who still might be able to give him some information of worth, but before long he had considered every possible means of approach for every person still on their radar for investigation. The problem with such a small town was that it did not provide a great deal of distraction.

So, he stared grumpily out of the window for a while. It was snowing again outside, the soft flakes gradually piling up and beginning to cover the bottom of the window. His mood gradually darkened as he stared at the snow swirling in eddies and drifts, felt the cold begin to ebb through the walls of their little hut and into his bones. A part of him welcomed the icy sensation, and he mentally resigned himself to creating that shell of false warmth he so loathed.

The mood threatened to overwhelm him, but just as he was on the verge of seeking Romanoff out to hurl insults and start an argument to take out his temper, she emerged from the area of the hut they had designated her ‘workshop.’

Unlike Loki, Romanoff had actually put some effort in to seem like she was good at her chosen craft. They had a few paintings of the harbour on display in their kitchen/lounge area, and she had even sold a few to people around the town. Today though, the canvas she hefted triumphantly in front of his face was not of the cheerfully coloured boats, or of a sunset over the water.

“I thought that as your wife it might be nice to illustrate your novel!” She announced, ignoring his poor mood. “Here’s a picture of that snowy scene you were describing. I think it fits the tone of your book quite well: Fine art for fine literature.”

Loki actually looked properly at the canvas she was showing him. It was white. Oh, dashes of cream or grey had been thrown on in places to imitate shadows, but overall it was…

“Absolutely dire.” He chuckled. “A fitting illustration. I think it might even make a good front cover.”

“I thought so.” Romanoff preened. “Don’t you dare go hiring another illustrator for the job when you get published.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Loki promised. He did feel a little more cheerful now – enough to realise that starting an argument to shatter their fragile peace would be a terrible idea. Instead, he moved himself away from Romanoff to start building up the fire. Hopefully that would be enough to warm the inside of their little home enough that his skin would remain as it was without help.

“Shall I hang it?” Romanoff asked, lifting the canvas to hold it speculatively against one of the walls.

“Oh yes.” Loki agreed, “Perhaps by my desk? So it can inspire me whilst I write.”

“Good plan.” Romanoff disappeared a moment, re-emerging with a hammer and nails. Loki could have shuddered at the domesticity of the moment, but he didn’t notice it, instead taking the time to appreciate Romanoff’s rather fine arse as she climbed up onto a chair to hang the picture.

“So, what’s next in your great classic?” She asked, positioning the nail and driving it into the wall with a few quick taps.

“Hmm?” Loki asked, distracted. She turned and he just barely managed to flick his gaze back to the fire before she caught him staring.

“What will you be writing today?” She asked again, her expression suggesting she knew exactly what had just happened.

“Oh, a sex scene.” Loki threw out, not sure what had brought that particular idea into his head.

“Really?” Romanoff asked incredulously.

“Oh yes. It will of course, be the hottest sex scene ever written.”

“Of course. Go on then, compose.” She challenged him.

“Very well.” Loki paused, thought about the worst possible metaphors he could possibly create for sex, then went for it.

*******

“She took off her coat, then her big woolly jumper, then her thermal top, then her vest, then her bra. Her boobies were like amazingness. Like, really wow with nipples and pretty skin. I touched one them and it was soft like marshmallow. I wanted to see if it tasted like marshmallow too, so I licked it. It didn’t taste like marshmallow at all, but that’s OK because it’s not a marshmallow it’s a booby.”

“Wow.” Romanoff was struck entirely speechless. “Wow, that’s bad. Quick, get that down on paper.”

He laughed. “It would not do for the world to lose such inspired romance, after all. Come then, you are normally instrumental in supporting my writing process: How might I proceed?”

Now it was Romanoff’s turn to pause.

“Hmm… well, sticking with your first person: She made a noise a bit like a balloon with a hole in it. ‘Hissss,’ she said. ‘Yeah, you like that baby?’ I asked in a sexy voice. ‘I do.’ She said. ‘Do it again.’ So I licked her booby again and she made another noise like a balloon with a hole in it.”

Loki took over, a smile spreading across his face.

“Suddenly my shirt was on the floor. She must of [sic] undone it and thrown it whilst I was busy licking her boobies. Then she took off my thermal top, and my vest, and the other vest I was wearing because it was cold and I hate the cold.”

“Now I felt warm even though I had no shirt on anymore because she was so hot she made me feel hot, which is good because actually it was cold.”

“She whispered ‘kiss me’ so I did. I put my lips on hers and my tongue touched her tongue and we made out for an hour.”

Romanoff laughed, “You’re a little too good at this.” She teased. “Are you sure you’re not just a really awful writer pretending to fake it?”

“I assure you Romanoff, I am far better than this novel would indicate. When I am making an effort there is no need to fake it.” Loki promised, double entendre laced carefully between his words. Romanoff just arched an eyebrow sceptically. Loki thought it looked suspiciously like a challenge.

“Your turn.” He prompted. Romanoff rolled her eyes and continued.

“After we had made out for an hour I put my hands on her boobies again and played with them. They were super sexy, and her nipples were too.”

“Her nipples were hard like teeny tiny icicles, but not cold, which is good because…” Loki added, with a snicker, Romanoff joining him for the end of the line “I hate the cold.”

They shared a smile, the story on hold for a moment, then Loki continued.

“My fingers quested down her torso, stroking over her soft skin which had goosebumps like little pimples because it was cold.”

“When they dipped into her waistband, she moaned so loudly the snow fell off the roof outside.”

“‘Please,’ she begged, ‘please don’t stop.’”

“I didn’t stop.”

“Instead, I undid her button and slid her trousers, then her thermal tights down her long, smooth legs.”

“At the same time she slid my trousers and thermal leggings down so we were both naked except for our socks. I was wearing two pairs and she was wearing three.”

“We took our socks off. So we were properly naked like babies but sexier.”

Romanoff snorted at the awful simile. “Does that not kill the mood?”

“Apparently not for this particular protagonist.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and continued. “Totally stark naked, we started kissing again.”

“We kissed like fire amidst the snow, gasps and groans spilling from our lips like snowflakes, no two the same.”

“Snow is cold though, and the noises we were making weren’t cold, they were hot.”

“She kissed me enthusiastically, pushing up into my body. I allowed her to propel me backwards.”

“Until we hit the wall. Then, her body pushed up against me and I could feel her titties on my tummy.”

“Nice use of alliteration.” Loki praised.

“Thanks.” Romanoff smirked at him.

Was it just him, or had they somehow edged closer to each other across the small living room/study. He continued, forgetting he was supposed to be a terrible author. Somehow, what had started as a fun game of terrible smut-writing had turned into a rich mental image starring none other than himself and the red-headed wildcat stood across from him. Ah yes, his turn.

“I enjoyed the sensation of her supple breasts pressed against me for a moment, then ran my fingers down to her thighs, pulling her up to wrap her legs around me and press her against the wall in turn.” His voice had dipped. No longer light and teasing, he now drew out the syllables of his words, every letter laden with erotic suggestion.

“He pressed kisses to my neck and I tightened my legs around him, pushing my core against him, feeling the hard heat of his cock under my arse.” Romanoff sounded similarly intense, and had slipped into a first person of her own.

They took a step towards each other.

“Her hands wound in my hair, pulling to direct my lips back up to hers. I dug my teeth into her lower lip, and swallowed her gasp, hand stroking down to grasp her firm arse, fingers millimetres away from her dripping c…”

He didn’t finish the word. Whilst he spoke, they had moved closer, eyes locked. They stood that way for a moment, both hesitating, teetering on the edge of each other. Finally, they both moved at once, lurching towards each other in a kiss that was all passion. There was no slow, piece by piece undressing as in their poorly-written fantasy. Instead, Loki’s layers were all peeled over his head in one fell swoop. Romanoff was undressed a little more gradually: Loki pulled off her top layers, growling in frustration when he discovered another sleeveless vest underneath. That was ripped straight down the middle and tossed to one side in favour of latching his teeth onto her collarbone, sucking a dark bruise into the flesh. Her hands scrabbled blindly at the fastening of his trousers, but he batted them away, scooping her up and wrapping her legs around him just as they had imagined.

He manoeuvred them through the house to his bedroom and pushed Romanoff down into the mattress, covering her body with his. He forced a hand down the waistband of her trousers, pushing his fingers inside her, coating them with her wetness so he could grind against her clit, aborted moans and grunts spilling from her lips at the intense sensation. Her own hand cupped him through his trousers, rubbing against him and exploring the outline of his erection. The sensation was so muted by the layers of fabric in the way as to make it torturous – a promise of what he could have, but yet out of reach. Groaning impatiently, he leant back and tugged his trousers off as she shimmied out of her own. He lurched back up to capture her lips, hand going immediately back to her core, pumping in and out of her, breaking away from the kiss to growl lustfully when her fingers finally wrapped around his cock without barrier. She gripped him tightly, thumb stroking over the end of his cock to gather the pre-cum.

He could feel from the wet heat of her core that she was more than ready for him, and his patience for foreplay was at an end.

“Condom.” He grunted, pushing himself away from her to reach into his suitcase. She raised an eyebrow at him when she saw that he had packed them, but he just raised one back. “Don’t tell me you didn’t.”

She shrugged, and he smirked at her, pulling the condom out of its foil package and rolling it on. That done, he lay back on the bed and grabbed her hips, pulling her to straddle him, cock poised at her entrance.

“Come on then,” he crooned, “fuck me.”

She took him in with one smooth stroke, sliding down him to the hilt without hesitation. When he was fully sheathed inside her, he thrust his hips up and she cried out, immediately moving, her strong thighs setting a fast pace. His hands explored her breasts, pinching at her nipples and grasping them tightly, before moving to her hips to support her movements when she slowed them minutely. She had tilted herself so his cock struck a spot inside her that had her clenching with every thrust, and he kept that angle, driving himself into her until she clenched around him and cried out in ecstasy.

Before the pants of her orgasm had fully evened out, Loki twisted, tucking her legs under him then lifting them over his shoulders. Pushing them back so she was bent almost in two, he began to hammer himself into her – there was no finesse in this coupling, no attempt to draw the experience out: Only raw, explosive passion. Romanoff was crying out with each punishing thrust of Loki’s hips, her hands on his shoulders pulling him closer every time, nails digging into the skin so hard he was sure they would leave scratches.

He pushed himself, harder, upping the pace again as he felt the first teasing flashes of his coming orgasm. Once it began, he could not stop it. It rushed up on him, sweeping him up in the tumbling, roaring sensation of an avalanche. He exhaled loudly, his breath stuttering to a stop as he came, feeling Romanoff’s walls pulsing around him in encouragement. Spent, he tugged her legs out from their place over his shoulders and collapsed over her, their bodies cooling rapidly in the frosty air.

* * *

*******

Loki came back to himself, realising he had been staring at a decapitated fish in Trent’s stall for… well, long enough to draw notice.

“I apologise.” He said smoothly, awkwardness saturating his tone as was expected of his character. “I was distracted.”

“Stroke of inspiration?” Trent snorted.

“Hmm, yes…” Loki trailed off again, looking around the dock. “I say, is that a new boat?”

“Mm? Oh, ah, yes. Arrived last night.” Trent looked suddenly uncomfortable. Interesting.

“In the night? How thrilling. Oh! I must interview them. Get their perspective… Sailing into a pitch black harbour on a night as dark as the night sky.” Loki allowed his voice to slip into his ‘composing’ register, more terrible similes tripping to his tongue but never spoken, for Trent interrupted.

“I wouldn’t, Danny-boy. Those boys ain’t what you’d call friendly.”

“Oh nonsense, nonsense,” Loki responded airily, making to wander off. Trent lurched after him and grabbed his sleeve.

“Seriously, Daniel. They’re as like to beat you as talk to you. Just you go home today. Get some of them ideas down, yeah?”

“Oh…” Loki let the wind out of his sails, crumpled his expression to one of disappointment. “Very well. If you are quite sure. It is rather cold today, and well, I can feel the words, ready to spill forth and…”

“Yeah, you have a good one Daniel.” Trent gave Loki a little push back in the direction of his house, and Loki bumbled off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Kudos and comments are hugely appreciated :)
> 
>  
> 
> I am sorry to say that we are approaching the end of this fic! Probably only 2-3 chapters left of it. Fear not though, a sequel is roughly planned out, and an 'interlude' is almost entirely written!


	16. Turns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Natasha learn about the benefits of turn taking, albeit in a rather... unusual fashion. Loki is persuaded to share his information about the new boat in town, and they finally get to stop playing at struggling artists and get some agent-work in. It's still cold - unfortunately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more eagle-eyed among you may have noticed that there was no update last week. Very sorry about that! I forgot to schedule a post before I went away for a holiday/job interview, and then couldn't because I had left my computer at home!  
> The good news for me is, I had a lovely time and came back with a job offer.  
> The good news for you is, this chapter contains smuttiness... if that is actually bad news for you, kindly avoid the parts between the *******.

Loki arrived back at their cabin, and left the persona of Daniel at the door. He seemed to grow as he stepped over the threshold, suddenly straightening up and un-hunching his shoulders so he was returned to his natural, imposing figure. He strode through the house, and, predictably, encountered Romanoff in her studio. In theory she was painting in there, but what he actually found was her checking on the maintenance of a frankly excessive store of weaponry.

He stopped in the doorway and waited for her to acknowledge him, which she did after piecing a Sig Sauer pistol back together again.

“I have news.” He stated simply. She quirked an eyebrow.

“Is it interesting this time?”

“I happen to think the discovery of the harbourmaster’s secret gay porn stash was extremely interesting.” Loki responded, affronted. “Relative to what this ridiculous backwater has to offer,” he amended.

“Fine, is it relevant?”

“To what?”

She realised now that he was playing a game, and her face shifted rapidly through exasperation, to curiosity, and finally settled on predatory.

“You’re not going to tell me are you?”

“Not unless you’re very… persuasive.” Loki agreed, smirking.

* * *

*******  
“Well, this is just not fair,” He complained half an hour later. He was tied spread-eagled on the bed whilst Romanoff made his life extremely miserable. So far he was fairly sure she had licked and bitten her way across every inch of his skin, save for those inches that were really desperate for her attention.

“Shut it Frost, or I’ll gag you too.” Romanoff ordered. “It’s my turn.”

After their first night, Loki had quickly discovered that Romanoff was not the kind of person to regularly hand over control in the bedroom as she had back New York – in fact, she generally preferred to be the one exerting it. Fortunately, Loki was nothing if not flexible, so they had, after a few explosively argumentative fucks where they both fought for control, worked out a workable compromise: Taking turns… a concept neither of them had really had to deal with as children, now applied in the least childlike way imaginable.

“Well, you won’t let me do this when it’s my turn either.” He protested, breaking off with a hiss as she ghosted her breath across his thigh.

“Please,” she snorted, “you know full well why. I don’t trust you, Frost.”

“Excuse me?” Loki sat up a little, ropes creaking ominously. “I would do nothing without your full consent Romanoff. I would have thought you know by now that I am not, nor will I ever be a rapist.”

“I do. That I do trust, but that’s all. You wouldn’t actually fuck me unless I wanted it, but you would quite happily fuck off and leave me there if it suited you. I don’t trust you not to double cross us.”

“Well what makes you think I trust you? I still let you tie me up.”

“Stop messing around Frost, we both know you could tear through these ropes like they’re made of paper. You’re only there because you want to be.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Aren’t you going to get on with it then?” Loki challenged with a smug twist of his lips.

Romanoff responded with a strip of duct tape, pressed hard over his lips so all he could do was grunt indignantly.

“Yes yes, I know,” she taunted, straddling his torso. Her voice dropped into a mocking imitation of his accent. “How do you expect to get any information out of me when I can’t even speak?” She rolled her hips, pushing herself down on his stomach, but still miles away from where he needed that undulating pressure. “Turns out I just want to have a bit of fun first,” she whispered in his ear, “warm you up a bit.”

Three times. Three fucking times she teased him to the edge. Stroked, licked, sucked and tormented until he was straining not to break his bonds, locking every muscle in an effort to keep still. And three fucking times she pulled away at the last minute, grinning wickedly up at him as he groaned loudly through the tape over his mouth.

“What do you think?” She asked, fingers hovering over his cock, which twitched at even the anticipation of her touch, so desperate was he for satiation. “Ready to give it up to me?”

She reached up and ripped the tape away, the sensation stinging against his skin.

“No.” Loki said immediately, and the hand that had torn the tape away smacked him across the face, slamming his head to the side. He was panting from the exertion of his three failed orgasms, but it was far too soon to stop the fun yet.

“Shame.” Romanoff commented, as though talking about the weather.

And so it continued. She would work him until he was desperate, arching off the bed, then ask the simple question,

“Ready yet?”

A shake of his head, and suddenly all sensation was gone from him.

She continued, diverting her attentions from his blissful torment him only to make sure Loki played his part in bringing her to his peak even as she refused him his own. Finally, he ‘gave in.’

“Fine,” he bit out (he did not beg – he never would), “Fine I’ll tell just let me cum!”

“Oh aren’t you good,” Romanoff crooned, finally sinking herself fully on to him. She barely had to move. The walls wrapped around him felt so tight, so hot they burned as he involuntarily jerked up into her, the sensation overtaking him, blurring his vision. When he came, his world exploded with brightness, the intensity overwhelming him so he forgot all about the ropes. His muscles spasmed and they snapped, pinging away like elastic.

Romanoff stayed where she was, waiting as he softened inside her, lying in a panting, sweaty mess in the bed. She waited, watching him, until she was sure he was alert again. As soon as he turned clear eyes on her, she moved, lifting herself sinuously off him and discarding the crumpled condom.

*******

“Well?” She asked, settling herself beside him and pulling a heavy blanket over them both. “What’s the big news then?”

“New boat in town.” Loki mumbled. He was alert enough to talk, but refused to emerge from the comfortable haze of his orgasm just yet. “Daniel tried to go chat to them and What’s-his-name, the fish guy warned him off. Seemed genuinely concerned. And he doesn’t like them being there – whatever it is, it makes him uncomfortable.”

“You think it’s to do with the trade.”

“Well, I’d fucking hope so. I’m more than ready to get out of here and retire to… oh I don’t know, somewhere warm.” Loki grumbled.

“You don’t think that’s something I needed to know right away?” Romanoff sounded cross now, “we don’t have time to lose to your libido.”

“ _Our_ libido.” Loki insisted. “It’s not like you weren’t enjoying yourself just as much there. Besides, it’s not like we can _do_ anything just yet. They’re on edge, and I’ve already asked questions about them today. If you go there and start asking questions too, it could put them on edge, and they’ll leave.”

“True.” Romanoff admitted. “Well, in that case tell me everything you did notice.”

Loki launched into a report on all he had noticed in his brief look at the boat – its exact location in the dock, guard numbers and positions, and possible access points for infiltration. Between them, they composed a rough plan of action, to be put into place pending further investigation. They had not bothered to dress again in the course of their discussion, both of them unashamed of their nudity, and warm enough under the blanket. As their planning was winding up, Loki’s hands began finding their way to increasingly inappropriate areas of Natasha’s body, drifting over the curve of her waist to caress her bare breasts. She did not move to stop him, nor did she pause in her consideration of which of her many weapons would be appropriate for the evening.

“Surely tonight is only reconnaissance, not a raid?” Loki queried, fingers now slipping lower. “Would you not be better off with bladed weapons so as to avoid discovery if you do have to defend yourself?”

She nodded in acknowledgement of his point, and amended her planned arsenal to include more knives, a few of the same darts that had been used on him, and a garrotte wire.

“Will you stop that?” She finally snapped, pulling his fingers away from between her legs, “We should be getting ready.”

“Oh please,” Loki snorted, “You’ve been ready to go at a moment’s notice since we got here. We still have hours until we need to leave. Personally I think this is a rather excellent way to fill them.” He could sense her acquiescence, and pushed the hand she still held onto back towards her. She didn’t resist in the least, rather guided his fingers to strum over her clit, muscles of her stomach tensing at the pleasurable touch. “Besides,” Loki added, tone lowering, thick with dark promise. “It’s my turn now.”

* * *

Romanoff looked damn good in her agent get-up, Loki mused, as he watched her zip up the black leather ensemble. It was a shame really, that she was going to have to cover it with bulky, concealing layers of insulation. He expressed his sorrow to her, verbally and physically, but her only response was to tell him to fuck off and zip the front of her catsuit back up again. Defeated, he withdrew and went about putting on his own winter stake-out gear.

She wouldn’t let him grope her during the stake-out either. They hiked up to the top of a nearby hill overlooking the harbour and watched the new ship closely through a pair of obscenely high-tech binoculars with the SHIELD logo on the side. The ship was not exactly busy, but it was quickly clear that, although they were trying to hide it, the crew were on high alert. Without being overtly stationed as guards, there was nonetheless a clear pattern of crew-members who would come on deck, walk a fairly standard route. There were occasional deviations from that route, or course, based, from what they could see, mostly on people sneaking a secret cigarette in one of the bridge cabin’s many blind spots, or answering the call of nature over the side of the boat. Still, within a few hours of stake-out, Loki and Romanoff had worked out what should be a clear entry and exit route for both of them.

It was also clear that the boat would not be there much longer. A steady stream of supplies – enough for about two weeks – had been flowing onto the boat, and the manner in which the ropes holding the boat fast to the wharf were set apparently implied they were due to be leaving within 24 hours. Something to do with less firm knots and time investment balanced with safety. Loki began to tune Romanoff out at that point. Either way, he checked back in to agree that yes, they were probably better off attempting to raid the boat tonight – if they waited, and it was gone by morning it could be months before another opportunity arose. Much as Loki was enjoying the surprisingly adventurous sex, he couldn’t quite face the prospect of an undetermined period more with nothing to do but each other. He and Romanoff would either end up killing each other, or ending up with something other than their limbs romantically intertwined. Loki was not so foolish that he wouldn’t acknowledge that his attitude towards Romanoff had softened considerably over the month or so since their relationship had become less hostile and more… heated.

He would, however, refuse to acknowledge any possibility of pursuing that softening and turning it into something more. He could not tie himself to any one person for so long, not again. Not when their loss would only tear at the long healed scars left by his father, by Lord Merton, by Silver…  That being said, Loki didn’t honestly know if he would even feel pain at someone’s loss anymore… it had been so long since he’d cared for anyone enough that the idea of their death might upset him, he wasn’t even sure if he was capable of hurting like that anymore.

He was pulled out of his internal musing by Romanoff finally determining that they had learned all they could by this point, and it was time to go in. It didn’t take them long to get down the hill and into town. Both of them shed their heavy coats and thermal layers, leaving Romanoff in her black leather catsuit, staring at Loki incredulously.

“Really?” She asked, her eyes flicking up and down his smart black slacks and shirt.

“I believe the dress code was ‘black.’” Loki defended himself. “I meet it.”

“Not going to do much for protection though, is it?” Romanoff challenged.

“I thought this was a reconnaissance mission?”

“Well yes, but you know full well that they don’t always go to plan.”

Loki arched an eyebrow, unable to resist the temptation to tease. “No, actually. But then again I am considered to be one of the best.”

Romanoff just huffed in frustration and turned her back on him. “Well, don’t come whining to me about bullet holes. Or the cold.”

Loki chuckled. “Thank you for your concern, but I am on a job now, I will cope.”

In fact, his magic was in overdrive shielding him with heat to prevent an appearance of the monster. However, none of that strain had to show on his face, so as far as Romanoff knew, he was entirely at ease, and had simply toughened up now that it was necessary to do so.

They crept aboard the ship, silent and insubstantial as shadows. On deck, they split. Romanoff was to investigate above deck, and Loki was to go below. Thankfully Romanoff was a good enough operative to acknowledge that his ability to sneak around enclosed spaces unnoticed was superior to hers, and to use that to their benefit. Then again, a quick reminder of his escape from the SHIELD headquarters in Ohio hadn’t given her much choice but to admit that.

He slid down the first open door he round, tread light on the steep stairs and one hand already hovering over the hilt of a knife. He couldn’t really use it – not until he had proof that this was indeed the ship they were looking for. After all, it wouldn’t do to slit the throat of anyone who was _not_ a disgusting waste of humanity. Though even in that case, SHIELD had made it very clear that he was to avoid fatalities wherever possible. Loki had quickly made it equally clear that he thought non-lethal takedowns were a waste of energy: Why leave a known enemy to potentially wake up and warn others of your presence? Still, he would, in the interest of their continued alliance comply with their wishes unless absolutely necessary.

Besides which, he had to admit that a part of him was grateful for the added impetus not to kill. He wasn’t always very good at restraining himself from lethal force in the last few years, even when it wasn’t entirely necessary. Truth be told, he was beginning to dread the moments when his traitorous thoughts turned to pondering what kind of monster he was becoming, to find taking a life so very easy, but sparing a life so hard.

That external restraint proved useful early on in the exploration, when Loki almost came face-to-face with a man heading up towards the deck. Fortunately, the sound of his approaching footsteps echoed along the corridor and gave Loki time to step into a doorway, twisting a little magic to leave him unseen. The man passed by unawares, and Loki continued along the corridor, choosing the direction that man had come from as a good path to continue his search with.

The decision quickly proved to be fruitful: poking his head cautiously through a door which had been left slightly ajar, Loki came across a command centre of sorts – a small room off the main corridor containing a computer that whirred half-heartedly, but proved otherwise un-cooperative when Loki tried to unlock it. Wary of setting off any alarms, Loki refrained from further attempts to open up its secrets, instead turning his attention to what appeared to be a rota. It was printed on thin, poor-quality paper and displayed with metal tacks pushed into the cheap plastic lining on the walls, designating watches and duties on different areas of the ship.

He ignored the dull drudgery of cooking rotas and berth designations. Of interest were only the watches on deck – just four of them, which shouldn’t pose an issue for Romanoff; and the watches assigned to areas described as ‘Stock 1’ and ‘Stock 2.’ The former only had one guard assigned, but the latter apparently warranted three guards, which the rota insisted must be armed. A fair assumption then, that this would be the more volatile group of mutant victims.

He photographed the evidence with a camera issued by SHIELD, and moved on. After poking around a little, Loki determined the rest of that deck was for accommodation purposes, so sought out a ladder and descended to a lower level. Given that the stock were of the human variety, and destined for sale, it stood to reason that they would not be kept in the very bowels of the ship where they might grow unwell, or even die – they would be of better value in reasonable health. Moreover, the more ‘interesting’ stock were surely unlikely to be kept below the waterline – given the acknowledged possibility of shots being fired to subdue them, there would surely be too much risk of compromising the ship’s hull and thus dooming them all.

Unfortunately, his guesswork was not quite accurate – he found one of the stock groups on that deck, but it was not the mutants, rather the regular young men and women, packed altogether in a small room with a convenient viewing panel in the door. Loki only glimpsed them briefly before he had to duck back around a corner to avoid the eyes of the guard, who was sat on a chair just outside the room, reading a book and looking very bored indeed. Still not enough though, to ascertain that this was undeniably the trafficking ring’s boat.

He moved down to the next deck, now just below the waterline. It felt damper down here, and despite the sharp fluorescent lighting, consistent with all the other decks he had investigated, it still seemed darker.

Stretching out his senses, he could tell there were a number of people on this floor. Likely then, that he would run into one of the guards. Carefully, he wrapped his magic around himself so he became just as imperceptible as he had been back at SHIELD. This proved wise, as, stepping around the corner he saw the first of the three guards. He was indeed armed, as directed on the rota, but the gun sat in a holster on his hip. No major concern then. Guard number two was more heavily armed, with an assault rifle held casually in his left hand, and number three was, like the first only carrying a pistol. Peering through the windows in the doors lining the corridor, Loki noted that their nonchalance was justified by the fact that most of the mutants were asleep. A few of them were still alert, staring at the ceiling in boredom, or pacing listlessly around the tiny perimeter of their cells.

The whole corridor was lined with them, 6 on each side. Loki checked each one, and they were all occupied. Twelve mutants in all, housed separately. All four of the girls Loki and Romanoff had looked at in Ohio were there, all looking miserable. The Korean girl was sporting a fresh-looking black eye, and the blonde’s mascara had run in pitiful trails down her cheeks. Suppressing his urge for violence, Loki forced himself to calmly take a picture through the window of each cell, and turn away, back to the deck.

They would be rescued, he promised himself. They would be released before they got to Russia and disappeared into a whole new network of depravity. SHIELD would see to it, and if they did not, Loki would. The enormity of such a task, and of destroying a ring that stretched over at least 2 continents was overwhelming, and mentally Loki resigned himself to a far longer period of partnership with SHIELD than he had ever intended.

Back on deck, he crouched in a darkened crevice between two covered crates of supplies and waited. Romanoff had been tasked with investigating the bridge, then keeping watch over the deck guards until Loki was back. He touched the simple communicator she had given him, sending through two short pulses to indicate that he was clear, and ready to rendezvous. At her responding signal he would leave the ship and they would meet each other back at the cabin to share intelligence. However, her responding signal did not come. Assuming she was simply wrapped up in a crucial moment of her own investigations, he settled down to wait. About a minute later, two things happened in quick succession. First, he heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot from near the bow of the boat, and seconds later his communicator pulsed in the rhythm agreed for a distress call.

All attempts at subtlety discarded, Loki shot out of his hiding place and headed directly for the bow of the ship. He arrived to see Romanoff engaged in combat with one of the guards. Even as Loki rounded the corner and skidded towards them, the bulky guard got a grip on her, and threw her bodily over the side of the ship.

Time slowed down.

 

Romanoff was in the water.

 

The fact that she had not been wiping the floor with the guard, the blood splashed across the deck, and the staccato sound of the gunshot suggested that she was wounded. 

 

The water at this time of year was cold enough that the ice regularly had to be broken around the ships before they could leave port.

 

Romanoff was in the water.

 

He swore loudly and dived in after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun-duuuuuh. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos always welcome!
> 
> Only 2 more chapters to go! My goodness the ending of this fic has crept up on me. Sequels are in the works though, and I'm really quite excited about getting to them!


	17. For Want of Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romanoff is in the water... Loki is in the water. This poses a problem for both of them, but in very different ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so you may hate me a little by the end of this chapter. Sorry (notsorry).

When a human falls into icy water, the breath is instantly knocked from their lungs. They gasp, desperate to draw air back into their aching chest. Regrettably, this visceral moment of self-preservation is often their un-doing as they inhale a lung full of freezing water, and spend their final moments simultaneously drowning and freezing to death.

Natasha was well versed in missions in the cold. She knew her instincts would take over. She could not avoid the gasp, so in the split second before her body hit the water, she prepared herself to ensure her head would, so far as possible, stay above the surface. She landed as flat as she could, ignoring the hammer-blow of the water against her body, and immediately swept her arms out to counter the downward momentum of her fall.

It worked. The cold suddenly slammed into her with all the strength of an oncoming train. The breath rushed out of her, and her muscles immediately contracted, body working frantically to pull the much-needed oxygen back in. She gasped, but she pulled in only air.

She began to hyperventilate. This, too was expected, and she knew it would continue for several more minutes whilst her body desperately staved off hypothermia. Now she only had to avoid being shot again, and somehow get herself out before she died. She had, perhaps ten minutes, before she was too numb to move her limbs.

This was where things started to go wrong. Her leg was not badly wounded, but it was still painful, and her attempts to swim were badly co-ordinated. She lurched in the water and inhaled a mouthful that rushed down her throat like broken glass, cold stabbing and tearing at the delicate flesh of her lungs, forcing a painful cough. She sank briefly below the water before she brought herself briefly back under control and pushed to the surface. Coughs continued to wrack her body, muscles spasming without her consent, thwarting all attempts to breathe deeply, or move herself through the water towards safety. Already her limbs were too numb to operate the rescue beacon, and she had made almost no headway towards the dock. She flailed determinedly, her mind now keeping a frantic track of the seconds ticking away from her lifespan.

* * *

When Loki hit the water, he gasped. He was no mortal though, so his gasp was not caused by the cold hitting his fragile body. No, Loki gasped because as the frigid water enveloped him, the effort required to maintain his protective layer of warmth and keep himself human increased exponentially.

Romanoff was not far away, and was thrashing ineffectually in the water, the cold clearly having affected her mental acuity and co-ordination. Still, at least she was still breathing. Loki was far better at taking breath from a body than bringing it back. He swam to her side in a few short strokes and grabbed her leaden limbs, guiding her to wrap herself around him and brace around his shoulders, so even with her fingers to numb to grip she would not lose her hold on him. The followed his direction mutely, her face oddly slack – shock was setting in. He had to hurry. Once sure she was secure, he struck out for the shore.

He moved, perhaps, more quickly than was usual for a person dragging another human through the water with them, but he was fairly confident that Romanoff was in no fit state to notice. A few half-hearted bullets pinged through the water after them, but Loki quickly pulled them out of the firing line. Judging by the shouts from the deck, it was decided they would surely be dead soon regardless, so there was not much to worry about.

Even moving at speed, it took ten minutes before he reached a slipway for easing smaller boats into the dock and hoisted himself and Romanoff out. She was shivering violently.

“Romanoff,” he barked, “Do you know where we are?”

She moved her head in a clumsy nod, but her attempt to answer verbally came out slurred and incoherent. She needed to be out of the cold, and fast. He thought about trying to extend his own shell of warmth to include her, but that would likely warm her up too quickly and cause more damage than it fixed.

Now he was faced with the dilemma of where to go. Back to the hut was surely dangerous: It had been dark, but their faces had likely still been seen, so it was possible the men on the ship would come looking for them. Finding a hiding place outside was no problem for him, but Romanoff was looking less well by the second, and he had no doubt she would soon be in a great deal of danger – if she wasn’t already.

He hustled her through the market, lifting her gently when her shivers became too strong for her to walk, even with him supporting most of her weight. First priority would have to be getting her out of her soaked, freezing clothes. He passed the stall he had stood by earlier that very day and grinned. He knew exactly where they could go.

* * *

Trent groaned as the hammering on his door continued. He had hoped it was just some idiot on his way to an early shift at the dock or something, but no, whoever it was they seemed quite determined.

Reluctantly, he rolled out of his warm bed and swore when his feet met the cold floor. Now fully awake, he pulled on slippers and a dressing gown, then strode to the door. He quickly began working himself up into a self-righteous fury, preparing himself to swear blue murder at whatever idiot was waking him up at this time of day.

The air that rushed into the room when he tore open the door was painfully cold, but it was not that which stole the words from his lips. No, what left him speechless was the sight that met him. Daniel was stood on his doorstep looking thunderous, and suddenly uncommonly dangerous. He pushed his way in as soon as the door opened and Trent was left to stutter helplessly, and push the door closed behind him.

“Daniel?” He forced out, “what? Wh… what the hell are you doing at this time of night? And shit you’re all wet. Ain’t a good idea to get yourself wet in this kinda weather… This better not be for your damn book… holy crap is that Serena? Is that _blood_?”

Loki frowned at him for a moment, then remembered that Serena was the name Romanoff had taken as his wife.

“Ah, yes. I’m afraid I have not been entirely honest with you, Trent. My name is not Daniel, and that drivel I read to you was not so much an attempt at a novel as a comically awful pretence at such.”

“Aw crap you’re special forces or summin’ aintcha?”

“Or something.” Loki bit out. “Though that is entirely beside the point. We have suffered something of a setback, and I now require a first aid kit, towels, two sets of warm dry clothing and a hat.” Trent stared. “Now.” Loki added with a hint of threat, putting Romanoff down on the kitchen table and ensuring a few of his more vicious looking knives were displayed with the motion. Trent gulped, and scurried away.

By the time he returned with a first aid kit, Loki had made quick work of stripping Romanoff of her catsuit. It now lay in shreds on the floor, one of his knives discarded beside it. The wet leather had proved resistant to peel away from her clammy skin, so he had needed to improvise. A blanket from the sofa was thrown over her torso to provide warmth and protect her modesty. Trent walked in and immediately dropped the clothes he was carrying with a yell.

Loki tutted at him, hands coated in blood where he held them over Romanoff’s wound, putting on pressure in an attempt to stem the flow of blood.

“Water, in a plastic bottle.” He barked, not bothering to be polite. “If you don’t have a plastic bottle a bag will do. I need to rinse the wound.”

“How the hell are _you_ a frickin’ secret agent?” Trent mumbled, hands shaking as he found a large bottle and filled it from the tap. “Daniel was a useless tosser.”

“I assure you, I am far from useless,” Loki responded, taking the bottle and using another knife to poke a small hole in it. “Right now, I am quite possibly saving my partner’s life, so kindly shut up.”

He used the bottle to rinse the wound, squirting the water at high pressure into the small opening, mopping up the bloodied runoff with one of the towels, heedless to Trent’s protests. Then, pulled out some bandages and twisted a dressing into a pressure pad, dressing the wound tightly to keep the pressure on. Satisfied, he towelled her as try as he could, and dressed her in both warmer sets of clothes, pulling the hat on over her still-damp hair. There was nothing he could do about that, but hopefully the hat would warm her head up. Her extremities were now less frozen to the touch, and her fingers twitched in response to his probing. Good, she was coming round.

“Go back to bed, Trent.” He bit out, retrieving the sets of dry clothing and layering both onto Romanoff, then wrapping her up in the blanket. “We will be gone as soon as I have cleared up.”

“Oh I’ll get that.” Trent offered, “No way I’m sleeping now.” He snorted. “Not after all this!”

“Try.” Loki retorted angrily, then visibly calmed himself and sighed. “Very well. I apologise for disturbing your sleep –  I am grateful for your assistance.”

“I won’t tell them you came here.” Trent promised, “Reckon I know what you were here for, and if I’m right, those bastards won’t get nothing from me.”

Loki was shaking his head though. “On the contrary, you must tell them.” He ordered. “Unless you want your own family in danger, do not hold anything back from them… the only lie I would suggest is that you tell them I forced your compliance. You have been kind to me – or rather, Daniel – and I would not have you in danger.”

He hefted Romanoff carefully over his shoulder. She was warm enough now that he could extend his own heat shield out to include her. With his free hand he opened the door and stepped outside, pulling it closed behind him.

* * *

He found a suitably tucked away and defensible position behind some long-abandoned shipping containers just beyond the docks. He put Romanoff down, ensuring she was still tucked up in the blankets and his layer of warmth, and immediately broke open one of the tracking rings he had been equipped with. SHIELD had hoped to avoid an extraction until they were actually at the base, but Romanoff needed proper medical attention.  Finally, all that was left to do was wait. This brought up an immediate problem. Keeping warmth around two of them was rapidly beginning to wear on Loki’s strength. He had rarely had to use his abilities at such high intensity for such a long period of time before, and now the adrenaline was wearing off he could feel the weariness worming its way through him.

Romanoff was now shifting, her eyelids fluttering as she fought her way back to consciousness.

“Welcome back, Agent Romanoff.” He intoned quietly.

She blinked at him, and tried to move her arms, panicking a moment when she found them trapped by the tightly wound blanket.

“I will release you if you wish, Romanoff, but I would recommend keeping every ounce of body heat you can produce inside the blanket at this point in time.” Loki soothed. “You are not intentionally restrained.”

“What happened?” She asked groggily, but no longer slurring her words, which was good. “We were in a house…?”

“Ah, you were semi-conscious then? I did wonder. After our little swim, you went into shock and ultimately fell unconscious. A combination of the gunshot wound and sudden cold shock I expect – and I imagine you were also in the early stages of hypothermia. I took you to Trent’s house to clean your wound and warm you up before the situation grew more severe.”

“Our cabin is compromised, then?”

“It is likely. They may choose to follow up the intruders, or perhaps they will simply leave at the earliest opportunity: I did not have the chance to find out. I have called SHIELD to collect us though – now, we simply wait.”

As if in response to his words, it began to snow. It began with light, lacy crystals and quickly descended into heavy clumps of snow, falling straight down without a breeze to disturb their descent and slipping even into the narrow gap where Loki had hidden them. He cursed colourfully and manhandled Romanoff into a new position as far out of the falling snow as he could manage. She snorted.

“You are far more likely to stay healthy and coherent if you remain warm and dry.” Loki pointed out irately. “I would prefer not to have your babysitters accuse me of murder.” He pulled their layers of warmth in tighter so the snow would not melt on their clothes

“I’m more worried about you right now,” Romanoff pointed out. “You’re still wearing your clothes from earlier. How are you not soaked? You were in the water too.”

“I am soaked,” Loki shrugged. “I will be fine.”

Romanoff looked sceptical. “Frost, you hate the cold.”

“Yes.” Loki agreed. “I detest it, but that does not mean I cannot survive it.”

Fortunately, Romanoff accepted this, and began quizzing him instead about what he had seen on the boat. They shared intelligence for a while, until Loki grew too weary to carry on the conversation.

“Frost, you don’t look well.” Romanoff frowned. “You should have gotten yourself some dry clothes.”

“That is not the problem.” Loki bit out. “I just need to…” he sighed in relief as he released the heating spell on Romanoff, keeping his own but powering it down. She was now warm enough that she should be able to maintain her own body temperature, cocooned in the blanket as she was. SHIELD should only be another hour or so in finding them. She would survive for that long.

Idly, he wondered what this setback would mean for their mission. Unless he wanted to admit that the cold had no effect on him and raise further questions from SHIELD, he would likely have to submit to the same medical tests and coddling as Romanoff would be in for. Would they wait for them to recover to raid the Alaska base? Likely not. Possibly SHIELD would even attempt to take the Lavrentia base without him. The Alaska base was likely empty by now, possibly entirely abandoned, so he could stomach the thought of missing out on the assault. He would not be left out of the Lavrentia attack though. This was his fight now as much as SHIELD’s, and he fully expected to be included in it.

He fell into musing on the best approach to SHIELD picking them up, internally debating the merits and demerits of various possible attitudes and confessions. There was also the question of his liaisons with Romanoff – he doubted she would see fit to withhold them from Coulson, who seemed to have her unquestioning loyalty, but how SHIELD would react to the information was a concern. If he was seen to have compromised their agent he could become a target of their ire once more – and they now had far more information on how to subdue and torment him than he was comfortable with.

He was so distracted by his careful strategizing that he didn’t even notice when his magic finally slipped from his grasp. He never truly felt the cold, so he didn’t notice as it gradually leeched into his body, insidiously working its way into his bones, loosening the control he held over his own skin.

Romanoff’s gasp brought him crashing back to reality.

“Frost, what?” She was gaping at him, eyes running over every inch of bared skin, down to his hands. He followed her gaze mutely: His nails were black, and stood out from his fingers like claws. Disgusted, he curled them into fists with a snarl. Her eyes flew back to his face. He knew what she would see there – the lines following the planes of his face, gathering at his temples; his eyes, glowing like hellfire: A monster.

He stood abruptly, backing away from Romanoff, staring at his own disgusting palms in betrayal. He had come this far, and now his disloyal body turned treacherous… He tried to shutter his expression, show only the blankness he eternally hid behind. but from the way she began trying to struggle to her feet, fighting the restriction of the blanket, he knew Romanoff could see some of his agony, his internal fury.

“Frost… hey, it’s fine.” She soothed, stepping towards him. He jerked away with a derisive snort. “It is.” She tried again. “Just sit back down. I guess this explains why you don’t like the cold, hm?”

Loki glared, furious. He felt the ice began to gather on his forearms, crystallising down his palms into blades. He did not want these weapons, did not want this body. The ice was dashed away on the iron side of the cargo container, shattering with an echoing crack.

Now, Romanoff did step back, her face nervous. He sneered, showing his sharp canines and her face fell further.

“Now you see the monster.” He hissed, projecting his own distress into fury. “Now you see me.”

She was the first person in centuries to see this form. And worse, he had spoken with her, shared brief slivers of himself with her... He had _lain_ with her. She was the first person so intimately acquainted with his body and being to see the creature that he was…

She opened her mouth, but he realised suddenly that he could not bear to hear her words. An attempt at acceptance would hurt almost as much as terror at this point, for surely it would ring false?

Gritting his teeth and hardening his heart, he summoned the last dregs of his magic and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week will be a short epilogue, and then this story is a WRAP!  
> Loki will return though, so watch this space!
> 
> Comments and kudos gratefully received!


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has been many men, but all of them have ended. Even this one.

Coulson ran a hand once again over his gun, checking it was loaded and ready to draw at a moment’s notice as they approached their destination. Any second now, they should come over the peak of the low, rolling hill and see the base spread out in front of them.

With the maps and data found at the base in Port Clarence Bay it had been easy to track down the base in Lavrentia, as well as few other others further on in the chain. Teams had been dispatched to all of the bases identified in a simultaneous crackdown they hoped would knock the ground out from under the trafficking ring and make it easier to dismantle further.

The motion of the large, armoured snow-mobile slowed as it came over the peak of the hill, and then, unexpectedly, it stopped.

Coulson poked his head through to the driver, a weight gathering in the pit of his stomach that told him this was unlikely to be anything good.

“Why have we…” his voice trailed off as he caught sight of the view through the windscreen. “Oh.”

Where they had expected to see a base, there was only a crumbling, still smoking ruin. Only two buildings remained standing: two small huts on the outskirts of the campus.

“Drive on.” Coulson ordered. “Head to those buildings. If this is what I think it is, they were left standing for a reason.”

Of the two huts, only one of them was locked. Coulson headed to that one first, half-dreading, half-eagerly anticipating what he would find. He was pleasantly surprised though. Instead of the dead bodies he expected, he found a mixed bag of unconscious, injured and mercilessly restrained traffickers, most of whom were half naked. Oh, there were a few who were undeniably dead – and one or two missing limbs, or certain vital appendages, but the vast majority were alive enough to complain in loud and heavily accented English about their treatment.

Coulson left the men to be arrested by his agents, and moved on with a smaller team to the second hut. At this one, he knocked.

The door was opened cautiously, a pair of dark eyes appearing in the narrow gap to assess him carefully, before pulling the door wider. He recognised the face as the Korean woman Frost had known. Inside the hut was a huddle of cold, miserable looking men and women. The haphazard jumble of ill-fitting clothing some of them wore explained where all the guards clothing had disappeared to, but most of them were still shivering with the cold. Coulson looked long enough to ascertain that none of them were in immediate need of medical attention, before calling in an extraction team with as many trauma psychologists as they could rustle up on such short notice.

Whilst they waited, he spoke to a few of the now freed victims. The most he could gather from them was that a stranger with white hair and brown eyes had whirled through the base, saving them but destroying everything else around them. The show of power they described was disturbing. Clearly SHIELD had only ever been shown a fraction of that strength. Coulson found himself increasingly glad they had had this man as an ally, but also dreading the idea that they might one day find themselves somehow on the other end of his wrath.

He needn’t have worried, for Jack Frost was never seen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the tale of Jack Frost!
> 
> There will be a sequel coming up soon, titled _Loki Leifson_. I'm not sure exactly when I'll begin posting that yet, as a few plot points need a little development, and I would like to build a little more of a buffer before I begin posting. In the meantime, I will be posting a short interlude titled _Thor Odinson_. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, and for all the comments and kudos I've received. I look forward to (hopefully) seeing you again with the sequel!


End file.
